The Truth About Forever Wes PoV
by prettyworthless
Summary: Title says it all. AUTHOR'S NOTE: THIS STORY IS NOW DISCONTINUED. I WROTE THIS WHEN I WAS TWELVE AND I NO LONGER PLAN ON CONTINUING. I APOLOGIZE.
1. Chapter 1

**_A/N: Hey, this sounds kind of cliche, changing the PoV and all that. But I just reread The Truth About Forever for about the 11th time and I realized I must do a fanfic about it. Hope you like it guys,. (Though I think writing in a guy's point of view was kind of hard and I don't think I wrote it that well.)_**

**_Anyways, read and review. If you like it, I will write the next chapter and upload it soon. But if this doesn't work, maybe I won't continue it. _**

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Chapter 1

"Gotcha!"

I was rummaging the van for the serving platter Delia had asked me to get when I heard a girl shriek. _Bert,_ I sighed, who else could it be?

"Bert?" I made my voice sound louder to reach him wherever he may be. "What are you doing?"

I finally found the plate and tucked it under my arm. Walking quietly, I heard movements in the bush nearby and he answered.

"I'm scaring you, aren't I?"

"Nope, not me." I said, already building a plan on how to teach the little kid his lesson. Or maybe not. I was the one who taught him this gotcha thing in the first place. I shook the thoughts out of my head and turned to face the girl. I couldn't quite make out her face since it was very dark, not that it mattered. "You okay?"

She nodded and I stuck my head into the bush when I caught sight of Bert's white shirt. I grabbed the roots of his hair and he tried to pull back but he was already out. I narrowed my eyes at his flushed face and sighed.

"Bert," I removed my fist from his hair. " Honestly."

He ignored me and faced the girl instead. "You have to understand. I'm down in a big way." What was he thinking?

"Just apologize." I muttered.

"I'm very sorry. I, um, thought you were someone else." He picked a pine needle from his head and I sighed. I knew what was coming. I just hoped the girl would not do anything rash to Bert. Screaming, at least, Bert can accept.

"It's okay." She told Bert. I was surprised at how calm she sounded. She wasn't even mad. I looked at the ground and saw the fliers that were scattered there. I nudged Bert and nodded at the ground. He saw it immediately and kneeled. "Oh, right."

I picked up some that were near the driveway and heard Bert's whispers. I shook my head and picked some more, placing them carefully on the platter.

"That was a good one, too. Almost had him. Almost."

The kitchen door suddenly opened and it became very bright. Delia went right out and glanced slowly into the dark. "Where is that platter I asked for?"

"Right here." I said as I walked to the girl. Now, in the faint light, I could already tell she was pretty. Very beautiful, in fact. I noticed just the way her blonde hair fell down to her shoulders, the roundness of her face, her eyes glittering even in the dark,... I handed her the fliers thoughtfully and she smiled. "Thanks."

"No problem." I muttered and hurried to Delia's side. I handed her the platter and sighed. "Marvelous. Now, Wes, get back to the bar, will you? The more they drink, the less they'll notice how long the food is taking."

"Sure thing." I said and rushed to the kitchen. I heard Delia call Bert once again and mutter something I didn't get to hear. As I was almost getting inside, I took one last glance at the girl. We would probably never get to see each other again. I sighed.

The night passed the same way as always. And I could say, as weird as always. A lady wearing an olive green cocktail dress was eyeing me the whole time I was serving drinks at the bar. Her eyes narrowed every time I was serving drinks to girls. It was just plain weird. After 5 minutes of alone time, I guess the food was already being served, she walked slowly and theatrically to me. _Here it goes again, Wesley._ I sighed inwardly.

"Hi." She called. I nodded and spoke, never glancing into her face, afraid of what expression I might see in there. "What can I get you?"

"Oh. One strawberry margarita please." I managed to take a glance and I saw her fake eyelashes fluttering dramatically. Ugh.

"Right." I said and went to make her drink. I handed it to her immediately and when I was finished with that, I realized we ran out of ice. I saw Bert returning to the kitchen to get more appetizers. I flicked my finger to call his attention at once.

"You know I'm in a wee bit of a hurry. The food was grabbed like amazing and there's – " I cut him off and sighed. "Bert, bert. I need ice. Go tell Delia."

"Say please." He teased. "Okay, plleeeeaaassee?" I enunciated the word very clearly and pushed him aside. "Got it!" He said and ran to the kitchen. Just then, I heard a loud crash in the kitchen. _Typical Wish Chaos_, I thought.

"It's fine!" Delia shouted in a cheerful voice and I heard her say something more but couldn't quite make it. I returned to the bar and was glad the flirty girl was gone. I heaved a sigh of relief.

"Here's the ice." Bert said, giving me a cold pitcher. I poured the contents immediately and returned to him. "Thanks, man." I said.

"You know the girl I tried the 'gotcha!' on? She is at the kitchen helping Delia right now but I asked her if she were going to work with us but then she said no. It was just weird why she was helping Delia or something."

"Poor girl. Anyway, she was not your first gotcha victim." He shot me a glare and then walked swiftly to the party to serve the biscuits he was carrying.

Finally, after the standard disastrous night courtesy of Wish catering, we were packing up. I saw Bert carrying the stuff inside and explaining his theories (again) to Monotone and she replied with her famous "Ummm-hmmm. Really." I slid the cooler into the van and patted Bert's shoulder. "Bert, give it a rest."

"I'm just trying to help her be informed!" He shrieked. _Be informed or be abducted by the same hypnotized Armageddon mind. _"This is serious stuff, Wes. Just because you prefer to stay in the dark – " I cringed on the inside at his statement though I already knew he didn't mean that too deeply. It was just his Armageddon stuff going on.

"Are we ready to go?" Delia asked, going to the van. I saw her carrying Lucy on her hip and the car seat in her other arm. I felt someone watching over us or something when I ran and got it from her. But I glanced up and sighed. Now I was feeling weird, the next thing I knew, I would officially be an end-of-worlder as Bert called it.

"Did we get paid?" Bert asked expectantly.

"Had to comp half." Delia said and I could already sense the disappointment rolling off Bert. "The price of chaos. Probably should bother me, but frankly, I'm too pregnant and exhausted to care. Who has the keys?"

"I do. I'll drive." Bert volunteered. But no one volunteered to ride in with him driving.

"I don't think so." I already knew then that Delia wanted me to drive.

"Donneven." Monotone seconded her. Poor Bert, I thought. But all of us would be poorer if we couldn't get home by dawn.

"What?" Bert whined unhappily. Clearly he was insulted. "Come on! I've had my permit for a year! I'm taking the test in a week! And I have to have some more practice before I get the Bertmobile."

"You," I muttered, shooting him a glare. "have to stop calling it that."

"Bert, normally, I would love for you to drive." Delia sighed. _Oh yes, she would surely definitely oh-so-amazingly love it._ "But it's been a long night and right now I just want to get home, okay? Next time, it's all you. But for now, just let your brother drive. Okay?"

Bert glared at us thing-from-the-swamp-scarily. I coughed dramatically.

"Fine. Just fine." He grumbled, handing me the key. Delia and Monica went inside and slammed the doors shut. I noticed Bert glaring at the ground and kicking little stones on it. I felt the urge to comfort him, must be a parental thing. Ever since we started living independently – okay, not so independently since Delia was here to guide us, anyway – I felt responsible for him. I ran a hand through my hair and said. "It's not a big deal."

"I never get to drive." He still was glaring. " Never. Even Monotone got to last week, but never me. Never."

"You will." I assured him indignantly. "Next week, you'll have your own car, and you can drive whenever you want. But don't push this issue now, man. It's late."

"Whatever." He said and I knew the bad part was over. The glare vanished and he wasn't grimacing now, but not smiling either. Bert was usually easy to read, his thoughts always seemed printed on his forehead and that actually made it easier for me to deal with him.

"You know that girl who was in the kitchen tonight, helping Delia?" He said, maybe forgetting he already discussed this to me earlier. Anyway, I answered. "Yeah. The one you leapt out at?"

"Anyway, don't you know who she is?" He said impatiently in a loud voice. And it seemed louder than it really is here in the dark with only the two of us.

"No." I said. He pulled the back door and continued. "Yeah, you do. Her dad was the coach when we used to run in that kids' league, back in elementary school. The Lakeview Zips, remember?"

"Yeah. Coach Joe, right?" I said as I helped Bert open the back door. He went it immediately.

"Coach Joe. He was a nice guy." He shut the door and I walked quickly to the driver's side. I looked around once more, never knowing why, actually. But it seemed like I had to. And since everything was okay, I climbed in and closed the door.

All the way home, I was wondering what really happened now to Coach Joe. He was not in touch within the last several years and I heard no news about him. Probably gone for a vacation alone or something. But what amused me most was the fact that the girl Bert had leapt out at, was the same girl who ran the fastest among us back in grade school. I didn't really know her, but I saw her run once and I thought she was literally flying. I ran a hand through my hair, trying to shake the thoughts out of my head and just concentrate on getting home. Probably wouldn't see her again. Doesn't matter anyway.

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_**What did you think? I wouldn't ask you to be nice but please, state your constructive criticism in a polite way. That's all I'm asking. Bad reviews accepted. Good reviews, preferred. =)**_


	2. Chapter 2

**_A/N: Great. No reviews._**

**_Anyway, here's another update. I'm sorry it's kinda short but you got it. I think I'll update once a day if I get at least one review. That'd be enough to keep me going. =)_**

**_Thank you._**

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Chapter 2

The next day was different. Yet the same. The dreams still continued, and I woke with the same punch in my gut. I saw mom, she was standing right there and I wanted to reach out for her. I wanted to extend my arms and hold her close to me, but I found myself unmoving. I looked down and saw my hands were captured by handcuffs. Slowly every bit of her was fading and soon I felt alone. This dream was all the same, I was incapable of embracing her and did nothing but let go. But it was different, I did not watch her waste away. I did not see her wither during all those times. I did not notice her lie on the bed and suffer in pain. All I saw was that she was vanishing again and I just stood there.

I sat on my bed, contemplating. As usual, I tried to bury the dream and carry on with the day. And today was not like any other. Today was Bert's birthday. I sighed, remembering our plans for the day. He decided yesterday that he was not going to get our uncle's car. Instead, we would visit the auto salvage lot near the airport, the one managed by the parents of his friend. I stood up and went to the kitchen to prepare breakfast. But I was surprised with what I saw.

"Bert... Did you just, ummm, prepare breakfast?" I stuttered, utterly shocked.

"Oh yeah. Good morning and please witness my first act of adulthood." He said, waving his hands in front of the table. He curtsied and I rolled my eyes. In the center of the table was a vase with a flower – I just didn't know what flower was that – and it was a formal setting. I almost nearly roll on the floor when he served 2 pieces of burnt toast.

"You" – giggle – "made" – giggle – "this?" And then I fell off my chair.

He scowled at me – remember the phrase _if looks could kill?_ – but luckily I was saved by the bell. Or saved by the telephone ring. He ran and hit the table with his toe but I was glad he reached the wireless phone on the counter.

"Hel – "

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY BERT!!!" Delia screamed and I was sure Bert would be deaf for the next few days. Even when I was several meters apart from him, my ears already hurt for the sudden outburst of our aunt.

"Thanks."

Delia asked something but I didn't hear it. But when Bert answered, he sounded kind of annoyed. "Remember, this would be the birthday and Christening of the Bertmobile?" He half-shrieked to the phone. Then followed a silence here and on the line.

I heard Lucy's tiny voice murmuring something on the line. Whatever it was, here was Bert's response to the baby girl. "Oh, hunny, thanks. And I love you all too."

"Okay, okay." He said and handed me the phone."

"Hey, Wes." Delia said and I know a favour was going to follow, but whatever she asked, I will follow. I owe a lot to her. "Could you please at least guide Bert in picking his Bertmobile?"

"Not you too!" I muttered.

"What?"

"What I meant was okay, I got it. But if he really wants something, even if I don't approve of it, I will let him have it. Anyway it was his money."

"That sounds like a no," Delia said. "Okay, see you around."

And there went Bert's special day. But for me it was not so special. First off, we ate burnt toast. Next, he pleaded me to allow him to drive my car, which meant we took double the time we were going to spend if I was driving. But what could I do, it was his birthday after all. And last but not the least...

"But Bert it is an _ambulance._" I said as we strolled in the salvage yard. We had been rummaging around for about 4 hours as the owner offered different cars and trucks. But when he spotted _that _ambulance, he insisted that he wanted that, but I was not sure. Maybe now he did think it had personality, but the next day, if we drove it around and people criticized it, would he still like it? Yes, yes, he would still like it, I knew that. Because even when we were young, when Bert wanted something, he stood up for it. When he felt something, he felt it strongly. And right now, he felt a strong desire for this ambulance.

"Correction. IT _WAS_! But now, it _is _not. It _is _now officially the Bertmobile." He proudly announced as he handed an envelope to the owner of the auto salvage lot.

"Are you sure? When you drive it outta here, you can't give it back." The owner warned.

"Come on!" Bert exclaimed as he pushed me to the passenger side. He shut the door and quickly ran to the driver's side.

"And this is where the ambulance dilemmas start." I sighed.

"Just to let you know, this is where the _Bertmobile _dilemmas start. Wait, there would be no dilemmas, who told you that anyway?" He asked.

"I just know."

"Whatever. This is the..." He paused for dramatic effect. The only thing missing was the drumroll. "the maiden voyage." He finished.

"Don't." He said as I tried the intercom. Good thing it wasn't anymore working. I looked around and was glad the gurney was gone. I slumped back to my seat. I noticed the sun was already setting and we still hadn't eaten anything yet, except for the burnt toast, of course. As if on cue, my stomach grumbled. We hadn't spoken about anything yet, and I was about to introduce the food subject when we pulled in at the driveway of the mall. I was surprised I hadn't noticed the route we took considering the speed of Bert's driving. We ate at a restaurant inside, I didn't know the name, and I insisted on paying the bill. All the way home, Bert was mumbling something about how great the food is. I just nodded and ummm-hmmmed to pretend I was listening. Finally, we arrived home.

"Thanks, bro." He said loudly as he reached out his hand for a high-five. I reached out to him and tapped him on his back.

"No prob. Happy birthday, man." I said.

"Thanks, again. And wait here, kay? I'll just get something." He said, ducking out the door to go to the garage. I ran my fingers through my hair. After a few minutes, I saw his head bob out and he grinned at me. He returned to the Bertmobile, – Oh great. Just great. Now I was calling this ambulance _that _too. – carrying a what seemed like a folded chair. He went to the back door and placed whatever he was carrying inside. He pulled it and I realized it was a cot. Still I asked him.

"What are you going to do with that?"

"Where would our dear friends sit? And perhaps this would just be temporary. As soon as I find something more comfortable, I'll replace it."

"Oh." He returned to the driver's seat and the roads we were taking were leading to the party Wish Catering has served tonight. After a long drive – I believe I should get used to it soon – he finally parked in the lot.

"Ladies," Bert said adding a little formality to his usually just-cheerful voice. "witness the Bertmobile."

Then followed the silence. I saw gleaming lights in the distance and then turned my gaze forward. There were 4 people instead of 3, and I was more than surprised. I blinked and breathed deep.

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Review please.


	3. Chapter 3

**_A/N: Finally a review. Here's another update and a huge thank you to celiacprincess and InTheRain13._**

**_I owe this chapter two both of you._**

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Chapter 3

For a second, it was very quiet I could hear the humming of the engine and my steady heartbeat. That was when Delia gasped.

"Oh my God. You've got to be joking." Kristy said, very astonished. Astonished in the bad way. Bert pouted and hopped out of the driver's seat. "What?" He asked defensively.

"I thought you were getting Uncle Henry's car?" Delia exclaimed as I climbed down the ambulance. "Wasn't that the plan?" For a moment, I was certain she was addressing to me. But I was relieved when Bert answered. "Changed my mind." He said cheerfully, and _very _proudly while jingling his keys.

"Why?" Delia said as she neared the Bertmobile. Her head tilted to one side and after a moment of deliberation, she put her hands to her hips. "Wait. Is this an – "

"Vehicle that makes a statement?" Bert interrupted her. "Yes. Yes it is." Please Sweet-Auntie-Delia, please just agree to him. Please just let him say what he wanted to, so he would stop flaunting his ambulance. Wait a second, they said _if you have it, flaunt it._ But this ambulance doesn't have it anyway, so what was Bert flaunting? I sighed.

" – ambulance?" She finished incredulously, ignoring his interruption. "It is, isn't it?"

"No way." Kristy said in between peals of giggles. "Bert, only you would think you could get action in a car where people have died."

From the corner of my eye, I saw the girl Bert leapt out at – I still didn't know her name – cringe. I felt a twinge of wistfulness and curiosity in the pit of my stomach. I noticed she looked like she were about to cry, but I guess it was just my imagination running wild. Why would a girl with such a perfect life cry over a reused old ambulance?

"Where did you get this?" Delia asked, distracting me and causing me to lift my gaze from the girl. "Is it even legal to drive?" I shook my head in silence, controlling the laughter that was about to overwhelm me.

"I bought it from the auto salvage lot by the airport." Bert said, in the same oh-this-was-the-most-amazing-thing-that-has-ever-happened-to-me kind of way. "The guy there got it from the town auction. Isn't that the coolest?" _Sure, sure._ I was about to answer but I stopped myself. I didn't want my brother to be offended. After all, this was his choice to make – which he already made, actually – and not mine. But his choice also affected me.

"What happened to Uncle Henry's Cutlass?" Delia turned to face me. And I told the truth immediately, just wanting to get the explanation finally out of my mouth. "I tried to stop him. But you know how he is. He insisted. And it is his money."

"You can't make a statement with a Cutlass!" Bert defended his ambulance once again.

"Bert. You can't make a statement, period." Kristy said, and for a moment, I felt kind of disappointed in her, she was deeply humiliating Bert, I guess. Then she continued. "I mean, what are you wearing? Didn't I tell you not to dress like someone's Dad? God. Is that shirt polyester?"

But then, I was glad for Kristy's obsession over looks and clothes. Sometimes, it could be her flaw. But other times – times like this that needed a sudden distraction, specifically – it could also be an asset. Bert glanced down his shirt and spoke as if he was not affected by any of Kristy's remarks. "Poly-blend. Ladies like a well-dressed man." And I was right, he was not a bit offended, but I was. I ran my hand over my face, embarrassed by my brother's beliefs. Well, what could I do, that's what he believed, right? But for me, appearances didn't really matter. What mattered most was what was on our hollow insides. I heard Monotone mutter one of her mantras – or should I say one of the few words she could speak. "Donneven."

"It's an ambulance." Delia said, as if convincing Bert to change his mind or just convincing herself to accept the fact that he wouldn't.

"A former ambulance." Bert corrected her as he once corrected me. "It's got history. It's got personality. It's got – " But I knew this was finally the time to announce the news that made everything all clear.

"Final sale status." I said. "He can't take it back. When he drove it off the lot, that was it." Delia heaved a resigned sigh and shook her head.

"It's what I wanted." Bert said. For a second, no one had a say to this. Not even me. Especially not me, if that's what he wanted, he could have it. What in the world is there left to do when you know that the one you cared about finally had the thing he wanted, even if you don't approve? It is a settled decision, and all you had to do was accept. Then, Delia walked near to Bert and embraced him tightly.

"Well, happy birthday, little man." She said and ruffled his hair. "I can't believe you're already sixteen. It makes me feel old."

"You're not old." Bert said.

"But old enough to remember the day you were born." She said, loosening the hug and brushing strands of his hair out of his face. "Your mom was so happy. She said you were her wish come true." I felt a tug in my heart at what she said, recalling the memories back. When my mom caught first sight of Bert, even I as a kid could see the ecstasy in her eyes. She sighed in contentment and said the words Delia was repeating.

Bert looked down quickly and I could see again the guilt and misery in his face. But then Delia whispered something I couldn't understand and he nodded. He began flushing and he turned away his face from all of us and then the happy-go-lucky Bert was back.

"Did you guys officially meet Macy?" Delia said, nodding at the girl Bert leapt out at. So that was her name, _Macy._ I was so used to think of her as _the girl Bert leapt out at_ and realized until just then that I hadn't really known her name. "Macy, these are my nephews, Bert and Wes."

"We met the other night." She said and I remember that night again. I just thought she was some pretty girl I would probably never see again but guess what. Just like always, things did happen unexpectedly.

"Bert sprung at her from behind some garbage cans." I added a little bit of detail, and for a second I saw her smile.

"God, are you two still doing that?" Kristy asked as if it was really stupid. "It's so stupid." And I was right, that's exactly what she thought.

"I only did it because I'm down." I noticed Bert turn to look at Macy. "By three!"

"All I'm saying is that the next person who leaps out at me from behind a door is getting a punch in the gut. I don't care if you're down or not." Kristy said, getting a metal thing from her purse and brushing it to her nails.

"Mmmm-hmmm." Monica agreed.

"I thought she was Wes. And I wouldn't jump out from behind a door anyway." Bert muttered. "That's basic. We're way beyond that."

"Are you?" Kristy asked and I could see she addressed both of us. And then she turned to Macy and got a little explaining to do. "It's this stupid gotcha thing, they've been doing it for weeks now. Leaping out at each other and us, scaring the hell out of everyone."

"It's a game of wits." Bert said and I wanted to agree.

"Half-wits." Kristy corrected.

"There's nothing" Bert said with mock solemnity "like a good gotcha."

Delia yawned like she was about to fall asleep right there and shook her head. "Well, I hate to break this up but I'm going home. Old pregnant ladies have to be in bed by midnight. It's the rule." She announced.

"Come on!" Bert whined. "The night is young! The Bertmobile needs christening!"

"We're going to ride in an ambulance?" Kristy said, raising her eyebrows.

"It's got all the amenities!" He said. "It's just like a car. It's better than a car!"

"Does it have a CD player?" She asked, as if she was very sure it didn't have one. And she was right. Suddenly I remembered the intercom system inside it that wasn't even working. "Actually – " Bert said. And I knew he hadn't had an answer to that so I interrupted.

"No." I told her. "But it does have a broken intercom system."

"Oh well then. I'm sold." Kristy said and I realized she was just teasing the crap out of him. And it worked, Bert shot her a deathly glare but she smiled at him, pressing his arm and starting over to the Bertmobile. Monotone followed her and they opened the back door.

"Have a fun night." Delia wished. "Don't drive too fast, Bert, you hear?" I sucked a deep breath and bit my tongue as everyone cracked up in laughter. It was very hard to control, not when I gauged Bert's reaction but I was thankful Delia called me. "Wes, can you come here for a sec?"

I started over toward her, looking nowhere but at the ground. I only noticed Macy was in the way when we were face-to-face, doing that strange thing where both of us went in the same direction and no one can pass through. After a second, she stopped moving and I was able to pass through. "Sorry about that." I muttered and felt myself smiling at her without knowing. From a glance, I thought I saw her blush but I knew there was no reason for her to do so. That's why I just started toward Delia.

"Take care of them, Wes. I trust you, please keep yourselves safe." She said and reached up to kiss me on my forehead.

"Thanks, Delia. We'll see you tomorrow." I said and walked back to the Bertmobile. While walking, I heard Kristy half-screaming something about gurneys and Bert answered with "That's just a cot I put in until I find something more comfortable." Now that I was near, I heard everything they said.

"A cot?" Kristy exclaimed. "Bert, you're entirely too confident about this car's potential. Really."

"Just get in, will you?" Bert snapped. "My birthday is ticking away. Ticking!"

I was almost at the ambulance when Macy dug something out of her pocket – her car key, probably – and passed by the Bertmobile. I was about to ask her to come join us but suddenly I was tongue-tied.

"Have a good night." Finally something made it out and she just nodded. Ugh, what an idiot I am to not ask her – what was wrong with me? – but there was nothing more to do. I just got in the Bertmobile and sighed.

I saw her walk towards her car, passing Delia in the way. They talked about something, maybe the catering job and she waved goodbye. We pulled in the space next to her car just as she was opening her door. Kristy leaned forward and was looking across me as she talked to Macy.

"Hey, you want to come out with us?" I didn't know why I was suddenly distracted and I suddenly forgot what I was looking for in the glove department. but I know it was related to me secretly wishing she would agree to Kristy.

"Oh no." She said. "I really have to go – "

Then I thought someone shrieked, and I winced. But it was just on the pop song playing on the radio as Kristy fumbled on the dial.

" – home." Macy finished. Thankfully, Kristy turned the volume down.

"Are you sure?" She said in such a tone that I knew teasing was going to follow. "I mean, do you really want to pass this up? How often do you get a ride in an ambulance?"

Instead of agreeing, Macy had the same expression as she had before when Kristy told Bert only he would think he could get action in a car where people have died. I could swear I saw her flinch and the aching curiosity got back to me again.

"It's a refurbished ambulance." Bert mumbled.

"Whatever." Kristy said then turned to Macy. "Come on, live a little."

"No, I'd better go." She answered. "But thanks."

"Okay." Kristy shrugged. "Next time, though, okay?"

"Right. Sure." She answered and I caught myself wondering when will be that next time that she will come with us. Then, Bert was turning around in the driveway and I lifted my hand to wave goodbye to her.

The rest of the night was both boring and interesting. We just hang out in some club nearby – a couple of beers and a couple of cigarettes – where a live band was performing. And as the tradition goes, Bert treated all of us. But I could tell it was the first time he did that though oldies said the birthday celebrant was always the one to have a blowout. Anyway, we left just about 2am but we got home at 3:30am, I think, due to Bert's superior trust in a driving student's manual. I sighed and closed my eyes, waiting for the night to just pass by and telling myself that tomorrow would just be another day.

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**_Watch out for the next update._**


	4. Chapter 4

**_A/N: Thanks to all my lovely reviewers and I do hope you're still going to read my fics (even though I hadn't updated in a few days). So here is Chapter 4 and I hope you like it._**

**_Thanks again to (the people who reviewed):_**

**_hobofreak6715  
librarianspet  
dobbinx  
reading book worm girl  
giggles4life  
HereAfter_**

**_I wish I could give you each a big hug. And for I know I couldn't, I'll just be giving you this chapter. Thanks again and watch out for the next one._**

**_Read, Relish, Review._**

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Chapter 4

"So how much for that little ballerina?" The customer asked me. I wasn't paying attention, though. I only knew she barely pointed out the tiny angel that was spinning like a ballerina. I suddenly remembered the inspiration behind that.

"_Yes the words Becky and Ballet do have an alliteration. But hey, you are kidding right?" I teased her as she showed me her childhood picture. I was surprised the girl who was on the image was the girl sitting next to me now._

"_Come on. I'm not." Becky rolled her eyes at me._

"_Yes you are." I said, taking the picture from her and examining it more closely. I raised my eyebrows quirkily and she shot a glare at me._

"_Hey Wesley boy. Stop being freaking stubborn."_

"_I'm not." I said, and now it was my turn to roll my eyes at her._

"_Yes you are." She imitated my former tone before. I laughed at her quite good imitation of me, really amused. Then I leaned down and kissed her, not caring about her lipstick smudging over my lips._

"_You know being freaking stubborn is something I should've liked about you." She said, picking my nose with her index finger._

"_Oh yeah?" I said, running a hand through my hair._

I felt a throbbing ache in my chest but I shook it off, instead telling the customer the price and adding a little more details. He also babbled on about the reason why he was buying this, tomorrow would be his daughter's birthday and he wanted to give her something different. And since her daughter was a ballet dancer, he decided it was perfect. Those were the only things I picked up after nodding forcefully and pretending that I was interested. Then I remembered another one of my stuff and who bought it from me.

It was a Sunday night and I was working on Delia's garage when she called me out. I hurried out immediately and saw that my heart in hand – specifically my first heart in hand – was displayed outside. And also a man that I could easily recognize was looking for me. He asked me about the heart in hand and my other creations. I led him to the garage and we talked just about everything that concerned my stuff – I didn't know, he just seemed to be really interested. Then he decided he would get the tiny heart in hand he saw first and blurted out to me he was getting it for his daughter, Macy.

"Thanks Coach Joe." I said.

"No prob." He muttered, patting me on my shoulder. And there went my first ever connection with a customer.

I sighed and got back to real life. _Oh joy,_ this was clearly such a perfect time to reminisce. _Just pure joy._ I was dazing off blankly in nowhere when my phone rang. I didn't know why I hurried answering it, call it a gut feeling, but I knew I should get it quickly.

"Oh Wes. You seriously need to help me out. A customer's just called saying his caterer backed out on him and tomorrow he's having a big luncheon. Everything else is pretty easy and I already, uh, went to the grocery to fetch the things I need. The only problem is – Lucy stop that! Oh please God I'm begging you. Hey, you still there? What was I saying again?"

"Delia, it was something about the only problem regarding – " I choked out but clearly she was in a hurry that she cut me off.

"Right. Right. So my customer, ordered like, 200 sandwiches and I couldn't make that on my own. Not today, when there was no one to help and my babysitter took the day off."

"Okay. I'm coming." I said, sighing resignedly.

"Thanks Wes! You're a great help."

She hang up already and I fixed quite a few things on my shop, glancing both ways on the pieces of pastry the surrounded me. I rushed out the door and waved goodbye to the bodyguard.

"So, um, Henry, there's an emergency in our house and I needed to go home right now. I already closed the shop so there should be no problem. Catch you tomorrow." I said then sprinted out to my truck before even taking in his response. I got to Delia's home – totally in panic mode when I saw her talking in the phone – and I looked at the cream cheese and other things, swallowing hard.

"Oh, God. You're saving my life! Here, let me give you directions. Now, it's kind of a ways out but I'll pay you from right now, so you're driving time will be on the clock." She instantly gave her almost-messed-up kind of instructions to whoever she was inviting to join this disaster and hung up.

"Oh Wes. Better start getting your hands on these. Hmmm..." She said. "Wait, can you drop by Stella's and see if Kristy and Monica were back yet. You know, that must be better than these." She jerked her thumb toward the bread.

"Okay, I guess." I said and removed my shirt off and left in on the porch. It was almost time till I should have done my daily routine but due to unavoidable cream cheese sandwich dilemmas. I sighed then burst into a jog. The wind was blowing rather calmly that day though it had a chilly edge to it. Soon, I found myself standing over Stella's garden and I looked at the window and there certainly is no sign of sister bickering or catfights there. Though there had never been, regarding Monotone's um, you know what. I sighed and returned back home, pulling my shirt over my head when I heard a _clunk _sound. Oops, not another doozy victim again. Anyway, I ran off to see if I was right and I saw the car's front wheel was stuck in it. I walked quicker and yelled kind of loudly.

"Whatever you do, don't try and reverse out of it. That only makes it worse." I said, trying to keep myself from larger help needed, I guess. I walked right through its front bumper and was surprised at who it was.

"Hey." I said slightly. I was about to explain it to her but nothing ever made it out of my mouth but _that._ I stared at her for a moment while she greeted me with "I, um" and then she swallowed and I finished what she left off. "Stuck." I said.

I examined how bad she was stuck for a moment and returned to her. "Yup, you're in there all right."

"I was warned too. I just saw the sculpture and got distracted." She said, and I suddenly recalled my earlier though about my first heart in hand that was sold to her dad. I suddenly felt strange hopes that she really got it, but I knew there was no point in hoping. Besides I do not have any explanation for doing so.

"The sculpture?" I glanced at my creation and looked back at her. "Oh, right, because you know it." I blurted out the words too quickly before realizing they were really said after all.

"What?" She said. _Great. _Now I look like an utter moron. I blinked and slowly shook my head.

"Nothing. I just thought maybe, um, you'd seen it before or something. There are a few around town." I stammered again. _Just greater._ Now I's not an utter moron. I was an egotistical utter moron, for the benefit of everyone. Ugh.

"No, I haven't." She said, quite embarrassed. "It's amazing though." I thought I'd felt myself slowly smiling like that for no reason, just the humiliating feeling of a compliment, I thought. That was all, I hoped. And my lips twitched into a smile at her.

I heard a door slam and turned to look. "Macy?" Delia called out. "Is that you? Oh my God, I forgot to tell you about the hole. Hold on, we'll get you out. I'm such an idiot. Just let me call Wes."

"I'm on it." I called back. I faced Macy, leaned closer to her and whispered. "Hold tight. I'll be back in a second."

I jogged to the yard, grabbing my car keys out of my pocket. I drove past her and grabbed the metal chains from the back of my truck. I attached it quickly and decided I should give her some tips on how to avoid this doozy – of course not to tell her we should cover it up. I leaned close to her window again and this time I could see how beautiful she was. I distracted myself by reassessing my thoughts back to the current dilemma.

"The trick is to get the angle just right. I reached out my arms and placed them on her steering wheel, twisting in gently. "Like that?" I said and removed my hands from it. "Okay?"

"Okay." She answered and put her gentle hands on it, too. I stopped ogling at her delicate fingers and just settled for getting her out. "Have you out in a sec." I said and started off to my trick. I got in, started the engine, and pulled her out. Once I made sure that she should be okay, I climbed down and undid the tow rope. "You're fine now." I almost yelled to make sure she heard me. "Just keep to the left. Way left."

Her head bobbed out the window and she thanked me. "Thanks. Really."

"No problem." I shrugged and added a little bit not much of a detail. "I do it all the time. Just pulled out the FedEx guy yesterday. He was not happy." And then I chucked the tow rope to my truck.

"It's a big hole." She said, glancing forward to see it again.

"It's a monster." _A monster that Delia would not let me banish from our land._ I thought, running my hand through my hair. "We need to fill it, but we never will."

"Why not?" She asked and I could hear the sincere curiosity in her voice. I heard footsteps and calm breathing then looked at Delia's way. I was right, she was walking up and I couldn't anymore explain the hole to Macy straightforwardly.

"It's a family thing." I said. "Some people believe everything happens for a reason. Even massive holes."

"But you don't." She said, clearly making out it wasn't a question. I was surprised on how she could see right through me that easily. I sighed inwardly.

"Nope." I said, and planned on changing the subject. Instead none came and I thought maybe it was time to let her go inside and let her finish her business here. "Anyway, I'll see you around." _And I really looked forward to that._ I almost added. But didn't.

"Thanks again." She said.

"No problem. Just remember: left."

"Way left." She corrected me and I was kind of impressed at how she really paid attention and even noticed the absence of one little word. I nodded and tapped on the side of her bumper. I climbed in but kept looking constantly over her in my rearview mirror, it wasn't like it was my duty, I knew I just liked to make sure she's safe.

I sighed and turned all the way home, knowing Delia has another pair of hands to work with and I knew I must soon look out for my brother if he hadn't come home yet. I opened the door quickly and hurried to my room. I changed my shirt and lied down exasperatingly on my bed, staring on the ceiling. I was battling with my mind whether to go back to Delia's and help them or just stay here after all. I heard scurries on the floor and I knew instantly Bert was there.

"Good night?" I asked as he walked by and removed his shoes.

"Yep. Richard and I did research on the Internet on stuff about EOWs and it turned out to be awesome. There were some facts there I didn't knew about and suddenly I felt enlightened."

I nodded as he rambled on, with a pretending-to-be-the-least-darn-bit-interested expression on my face. Finally, he said he was tired and I wished him good night. I patted him on the back and rushed to my room. I sat on my bed hesitantly, fidgeting with my pillows.

I looked at the picture of my mom, placed just right in front of me. I stared at it, reminiscing some of her memories.

"_Hey, Mom. Can I have that picture? I really want to keep it." I said, running a hand through my hair. I wrapped my arms around her and she seemed so fragile next to me. She looked like a heart of porcelain, vulnerably breakable._

"_Sure hon." She said and smiled at me. "Just so you know, I hated the camera. I don't know why, I just feel, I don't know, embarrassed or something when it flashes at me."_

"_Why would you be embarrassed?" I said. "Clever, warm, beautiful as you are?"_

"_Stop teasing me." She muttered. "But I loved it because it was one of those shots which meant a lot to me. That was your dad's and my first anniversary. He brought me to the park and led me to sit on the fountain. He brought his camera out – despite knowing I didn't like it at all – he still tenaciously took a shot."_

_I saw something spark in her eyes and I couldn't believe how much they loved each other. It was almost impossible, but yet it wasn't. "That's awesome, Mom."_

"_Thanks." She said, handing me the picture. "You can have it in one condition."_

"_What is it?" I asked._

"_Treat me to World of Waffles tomorrow, at breakfast. Alright?" She offered and I nodded, embracing her._

I felt the tears start building up and a lump rising in my throat. I shoved the thoughts back away and decided to stay on the recent past, without any reminders of the distant horizon. I went out and hunted the fridge for something to eat. I got out a meringue pie – not something I bought, definitely, probably Bert did – and because I had no choice but to dig in. I gulped down a glass of water and went back to my room. I glanced halfway to the photo again and closed my eyes, turning my head in a different direction. I decided to take a shower and it worked, I was stressed out, hopefully for the rest of the night.

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**_What do you think? Review, anyone? Just please click the button below? Please, pretty please? (Now I did use my charm on that. *winks*)_**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Sorry for the late update. Anyway, this is just a filler chapter. I really didn't think it was good but anyhoo, I'm posting it. So, tell me what you think. And thanks to the people that reviewed. I owe you a day of sunshine for making up most of my days. (Whoa, didn't expect it ot be that corny.)**

**Thanks to:  
rachel  
hobofreak6715  
InTheRain13  
asdfjklang  
MCS2507  
nolechic512  
librarianspet**

**So I hope you like this chapter. I wouldn't mind constructive criticism. =)**

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Chapter 5

"Okay. Watch and learn." I said softly. I was trying too hard to calm my breathing and to keep as inaudible as possible. We were just almost done serving the crab cakes in Lakeview Inn, where the reception of a retirement party is on the go. I saw Bert washing some of the equipment and I know that some other way or not, he would pass by this coat closet when he would return the things to the van. I settled myself inside it and was ready for a sign of Bert's shuffling feet. That's when I saw light pass through and heard a creaking door. A pale hand was hanging a coat inside and maybe she saw a part of me. She peeked inside and whispered my name. I shushed Macy and motioned for her to come inside.

So here we were.

"Right." She replied. I was very careful with my thoughts not to blame her for kind of interrupting my plan to earn another point against Bert but still she had to know. I decided to teach her the art of gotcha now that she was already part of the Wish family.

"Okay." I said even more softly than before. "It's all in the timing."

Then I heard footsteps and grumpy muttering. Oh no, Macy didn't have to witness this. _Not now. Not now. Not now._ She faced me and raised her eyebrows as if to ask what I meant. Oops, had I been saying that aloud? Anyway, since she was here and Bert was coming, might as well get this over with.

"Okay." I stood up slowly, still trying to keep as silent as before. "Now. _Gotcha!_"

Bert shrieked like a little girl – yes, a toddler with blonde curls on pigtails wearing a pink dress and licking a lollipop – and stumbled backwards only to fall on the wall behind. "God!" He exclaimed and turned even redder than a ripe tomato. I gauged his reaction and bit my cheeks achingly to refrain myself from laughing. "That was – "

"Number six." I said, shoving my hands into my pockets smugly. "By my count."

Bert stood up immediately and glared at us. I almost saw laser rays flashing out of his eyes and smoke coming from his ears. "I'm going to get you so good. Just you wait." He said threateningly and pointed a finger at me, to Macy and back to me again. I felt a flipflop of guilt inside my stomach as something sunk in. What had I just put Macy into?

"Leave her out of it." I said, somewhat wondering if that was even possible, knowing Bert. "I was just demonstrating."

"Oh no. She's part of it now. She's one of us." He said darkly. "No more coddling for you, Macy." I was still trying to figure out how to get Macy out of this gotcha thing and I remembered the night Bert leapt at her...

"Bert, you've already jumped out at her." I stated confidently.

"It's on!" Bert screamed, ignoring my point. I just heaved a sigh of resignation and worry of how Macy shall react to this. But I can see from her eyes that she was amazed and I wondered if she'd even enjoy this. Well, let's just leave it to the next gotcha, maybe I'd get her as an accomplice again. I smiled and watched Bert start off the hallway. Macy and I walked in the hallway to the kitchen.

"Nice work." She told me. Little did she know this was just a preliminary to what _gotchas _I had in mind.

"It's nothing." _Nothing compared to my future gotchas._ I wanted to add loudly. "With enough practice, you too can pull a good gotcha someday."

"Frankly," She said, and I could hear the curiosity in her voice that I was sure a question was following. And I was right. "I'm a little curious about the derivation of all these." And wrong. It wasn't exactly a question but still it was a query.

"Derivation?" I asked in an odd and surprised tone. Yes, I was quite surprised that she actually used such words. Yet, I was sure there are still many things I didn't know about her. _And _probably would never know. All I knew was she was perfect – if someone like that even existed, that may be no one but her.

"How it started." She said as indifferently.

"I know what it means." I said, already expecting her to give the meaning because of my question. I know that if she said that to somebody else, they would've been offended. But I was not. I smirked at her, still surprised. "It's just such an SAT word. I'm impressed."

"I'm working on my verbal." She said. Well, that explains it.

"I could tell." I said and returned back to answering her question about the _derivation _of all these. "Truthfully, it's just this dumb thing we started about a year ago. It pretty much came from us living alone in the house after my mom died. It was really quiet, so it was easy to sneak around."

"I see." She nodded. I could tell she was speechless about these antics of me and Bert – but I really couldn't tell if her speechlessness was from amusement or from thinking we're absolute dummies.

"Plus," I continued, wanting to explain the perks of a gotcha, though I couldn't find the reason why. "there's just something fun, every once in a while, about getting the shit scared out of you. You know?"

I honestly couldn't pretty much explain this to a girl. I didn't know whether the adrenaline rush when it comes to good gotchas came from our male hormones, but yeah. Kristy didn't get it as well, only Bert and I loved it.

"Must be a guy thing." She said in unison with my thoughts. I shrugged and opened the door for us both. I said, "Maybe."

I noticed Delia was having that oh-my-God-please-I'm-begging-you-we-have-typical-Wish-chaos-again look on her face as we walk in. Her hands were pressed to her chest theatrically and I knew something was either missing or messed up.

"Wait a second. Everyone freeze." She muttered. And everyone did freeze.

"Where," She said slowly, looking around the room. And I was right, something was definitely missing. "are the hams?"

Freaky silence. And just as usual, Kristy broke it. "Uh-oh."

"Don't say that! They have to be here!" And also just as usual, Delia was now freaking out. "They have to be! We have a system now!"

And we did. I was a lot thankful that _finally,_ after time and time again, Delia realized we have to be more organized. Delia created lists for everything that was needed, from the drinks to the mixing bowls, just particularly everything. I knew that the paper products and serving plates were all on Bert and champagne and glasses were on me. I believe we have remembered that pretty well and I thought all of us also kept in mind our responsibilities. She said that way, we could avoid Wish chaos. But that way was still evidently wrong and Wish chaos was totally inevitable.

"This is not happening. I remember, they were in the garage, on the side table, all ready to go. I saw them." She exclaimed frantically.

Outside I could already hear the people gathering, meaning the time for dinner was nearing. I shrugged inwardly.

"Okay, okay, let's just calm down." Delia said, though everyone of us was calm and she was the only one panicking. Which meant she was oddly comforting herself. "Let's retrace our steps. Who was on what?"

"I was on appetizers and they're all here." Kristy was the first to answer. Bert came in from the main room, carrying an empty tray and looking at us warily. "Bert were you on ham?"

"No. Paper products and serving platters." He lifted the platter he was holding and asked the obvious. "Why. Are we missing something?"

"No." Delia snapped sarcastically. "We're not."

"Monica was on ice." Kristy said, deliberating. "Macy was utensils, and Wes was glasses and champagne. Which means that the ham belonged to – " She paused for dramatic effect. "Oh. DELIA."

"What?" Delia said, still rummaging on random boxes. "No, wait. I don't think so. I was on –

"Main course." She finished.

"Uh-oh." Bert muttered. As if fueling up the fire.

"Oh God!" Delia burst with a slap across her forehead. "I did have the hams on the side table. And I remember being worried that we might forget them, so while we were packing the van I put them – "

We all waited as her short-term memory loss was having a flashback.

"On the back of my car." She finished in a whisper. As if she lost her voice in agitation. "Oh my God. They're still at the house. On my car."

"Uh-oh." Bert muttered again and I sullenly wished he were about to say something more productive.

Silence followed again as the thought of us being screwed yet again – despite our newly-formed system – slowly sunk in.

Then, Delia once again righted her mistake by going on. "Okay, here's what we're going to do."

I ran to the gourmet store nearby – okay, _quite _nearby – where Delia was owed a favour and got the ham. When I arrived – and when dinner was served 45 minutes late – I wondered why people hadn't really complained about the little glitch. In fact, they were all satisfied with the meal.

After the job, we just hung out near the van and talked about the same crazy stuff about the catering. I was glad Macy was feeling at least comfortable around us and that she was enjoying the job despite all of the chaos it brought about. I also found out a little stuff about her such as how she hated when Kristy stomped on the foot of a grabber, how weird she thought the battering of eyelashes were and that kind of acts. I thought it was very nice of her but still I didn't really know her well. But not that I expected something was terrible of her. Especially not that.

We were almost finished packing up and I was hanging near Kristy, Macy and Monica. Though I didn't actually join their conversation.

"Macy, you coming out with us tonight?" Kristy offered her as always, and again, she declined.

"I can't. I'm busy." She smiled sheepishly.

"Okay." Kristy shrugged. "Maybe next time."

It had always ended at that but this time, Kristy's curiosity won out of her. "What do you do every night, anyway?"

"Just, you know, stuff for school." Macy said. I was not surprised, though I was not expecting anything. Somehow I always knew, or I always guessed, that fact about her. And I thought right now it was confirmed.

"Donneven." Monica said.

"I'm prepping for the SATs and I work another job in the mornings." Macy explained. Seriously, that girl needs to loosen up. Maybe she was stressing herself for that, though I didn't know the reason behind it all. Another mystery about her.

"It's summertime." Kristy said with a roll of her eyes. "I mean, I know you're a smarty-pants, but don't you ever take a break? Life is long, you know."

For a minute, I thought whether Macy was offended by Kristy's remarks, because I swear I saw her flinch. But she was nicer than I gave her credit for. She was not at all affected by the _smarty-pants thing _but she still flinched. Maybe because of Kristy's innocent statement on _life..._ But who was I to know?

"I just really, you know, have a lot of work to do." She said.

"Okay. Have fun. Study for me while you're at it. God knows I need it." Kristy rambled and it was my turn to roll my eyes. I just wished I bid good night to Macy before she stalked off to her car. But, she didn't even know I was listening to their conversation. So I just shrugged and got to the driver's side as always.

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**What do you think? Shall I give more of Wes's thoughts, you know, explanations or stuff? Do you want me to add more details other than that inside the book? Tell me what you think!**


	6. Chapter 6

**_A/N: I'm so sorry I haven't updated for over a week. I was just really busy working on a story of mine on fp and I didn't have time to finish this chapter right away. Anyway, I'm so glad I hit almost 700 hits! And thanks to those people who reviewed:_**

**_HereAfter: Thanks for reviewing everytime. I really appreciate that you give your perspective on my writing and I really want to thank you. (If we had time, I'll treat you to the World of Waffles one day. LOL)_**

**_asdfjklang: I'm glad you liked the last chapter. I also worked slightly on giving more of his thoughts this time and I just hope you'll like this._**

**_InTheRain13: Thank you very much. You're really awesome for reviewing every chapter that I post! I'm just flattered by the reviews you leave because I think my writing really isn't good._**

**_hobofreak6715: Here's the chapter you've been waiting for! Just wish it wouldn't disappoint you._**

**_komi: Thanks!_**

**_Aqua279: I'm glad you liked it and I wish you wouldn't stop reading this little fic of mine. LOL_**

**_kristiandjoe: I do agree that wes is dreamy... It's just that he's taken though. Sigh._**

**_Tammy: Here's an update and I really hope you like this. I added a few more changes to my writing, yeah, I added a little more of his thoughts. Thanks for the review btw!_**

**_This chapter is the first part of Macy's first hanging out with them. The next chapter will be the second part. Anyway, I just want to let you all know I have a story on fp. If you're interested, read the author's note at the end of the chapter. No more from me, you can go read now! Read and Review!_**

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Chapter 6

"Mrs. Lexington?" My voice echoed through their porch as I spoke. It was quiet. Very quiet that, in fact, all I could hear was nothing. Nothing but shattering sobs coming from inside.

"Mrs. Lexington?" I asked once again and I knocked at the door.

"Wes, come in." And I went past the door as she said. I found her sitting on the couch in their living room. I glanced around as I saw she was alone, just like always since her daughter has been put in rehab. Mr. and Mrs. Lexington filed a divorce since Becky was young and Mrs. Lexington has full custody of Becky. But, every weekend, she has been visiting her dad. Becky chose not to talk about it, but every time she slips, I could feel her bitterness seethe through every solitary word.

Walking closer to her mother, I saw Mrs. Lexington's state. Her eyes were red and puffy, but still tears were running down her face. Her little shoulders were hunched and I could literally see her crumble into pieces. There was a little flipflop of anxiety in my stomach, and it continued flipping. What if something happened to Becky? What if she was in pain? What was there that I could do?

I sat beside the poor woman and wrapped my arms around her unthinkingly. I was fighting the urge to comfort her, but there was something that surfaced in me to make me wipe her tears away.

"Mrs. Lexington, wh...what happ... what happened?" I stammered.

"Becky..." She said, looking straight into my eyes. Her hazel eyes contained that of intensity, and I couldn't help but gaze right through her too. As she mentioned Becky's name, there went the little flip again. This time, both in my heart and in my stomach.

"What happened?" I asked again, finding no other words to say.

"She... She wouldn't even talk to me? I tried to... I asked her what's wrong and she... She just gazed dreamily past me. She looked at me too hard and I asked again. This time she yelled at me! She screamed that why wouldn't I leave her alone. I tried to comfort her, but.. but I don't know!" A new batch of fresh tears ran down her face. I squeezed her shoulders gently to let her know that I was on her side. I wanted to show her strength, to fake a smile and tell her everything's going to be okay. But still the daggers continued twisting into my heart. If Becky was in such condition, why wouldn't she want me by her side? I knew that she didn't want me to see her like that but still, wouldn't it help her one bit if I held her hand?

"Mrs. Lexington, everything would be fine. I know things may be hard right now but it will all eventually work out." I assured her.

"But I called her dad. He says she would be fine. He only says he trust the people in that rehab." She said.

"But if that was the case, I'm sure this is just part of the healing process. Maybe her mind's at a hurricane right now and she's trying to sort things through." I was whispering these to her just as I was screaming it at myself.

She just shrugged and I thought maybe it was time to ask her all about it. "Ma'am, may I ask what really happened? From the start I mean, the whole story."

She smiled wistfully. "I was just paying her a visit. And the psychologist told me to go straight to her, and so I did. I asked her some questions first and all she came up with was a nod, a slight shake of her head or a shrug. And then, I asked her what's wrong and she just didn't answer. I couldn't take it, so I asked once more. Just then, she snapped!"

"Let's give her some time. But did you talk about it with the rehab people?" I queried.

"Yes, and they told me it was just an effect of some medications. They say give them a few more weeks and it would get a little better. And they also mentioned that she would only be fully treated by the end of the summer."

"Maybe today just wasn't the right time ma'am." I said, keeping my voice calm. "Tomorrow is another day and it would be another chance for things to change for the better."

"I hope you're right. But still I'm worrying about my daughter... She was always talking to me when I visit her. She always whines about why her dad would send her there and that sort of stuff. So I just, I just never thought that this day would come. I thought she was doing too well and..."

"I do not doubt she is doing well. But if this helps, I'll try to visit her one time or another. Although I must ask her dad before I do. Also I would tell you before I go there, okay?" I promised. "Now, Mrs. Lex, just relax and sleep it through. Take something to eat and shower and rest. You can stop worrying, I know your daughter is in good hands."

"I fervently hope so. Thank you very much, Wes. I couldn't see how you're always here when I need you. And I see everything my princess has seen in you. Thanks, really."

She pressed my arm slightly and smiled. For a moment, again, I saw my mother in her. Her sincere smile, her stubbornness, her genuine concern... _Get a grip, Wes._ I thought as I told her that she was always welcome. She smiled and asked me if I wanted to stay for a snack, but I politely declined. I waved goodbye and got in my truck.

I breathed in and out for a few minutes before heading for a drive. So, there really was something going on with Becky. I needed to find out, sooner or later. One way or another.

Still, there was this question running in my mind since she got sent there. Why didn't she want me? I knew it embarrassed her to let me see her responding to those treatments, but why? I mean, it didn't matter, and it ever would. Didn't she think our relationship was strong enough to carry through that? Did she think if I saw her like that, I would just dump her? Didn't she know enough of the faith I had in her?

I shook my head and cleared my mind. Instead of letting it wander, I just settled for concentrating in my driving. I drove home and found no one was there. But in the fridge was a little post-it note.

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I thought I saw lights flashing in the distance and I was right. Not a minute passed and soon the Bertmobile was parking in the clearing where I hang out with some guys. The little note told me to go here while Bert was picking up Kristy and Monica and said they'll be here before 8. I just followed for some reason – took a shower, changed clothes, headed off – and now I found myself hanging out with these guys. So I pretty much arrived here alone but I saw my friend, Jake, and I decided to hang out with them for a bit. These guys were utterly, boring. But I guess they were better than... Okay, let's just say _the friends I had before_ were different from these guys I'm kinda hanging out with now. Jake introduced me to them and them to me. We talked about the usual and they offered me some beer. Usually I would've taken it, but not now. There were a lot of things to think about and it would not help a bit if I thought about them with alcohol. Serious matters and alcohol didn't just mix, a conclusion I have come to in the past years.

Anyway, the Bertmobile was parking, finally. It was parked in the way that it was facing me horizontally, and I could see almost the whole ambulance. I couldn't exactly pinpoint my friends but as soon as the lights flashed off, I noticed them right away. Monica and Kristy went to the keg, doubtlessly going to get a beer. I expected to see Bert come right crashing through me but I noticed him sitting on the back bumper with Macy...

"Hey, man. Whatcha thinking about?" Jake asked as he mock-punched my shoulder. I shook my head in a way that clearly indicated I was thinking about something really.

"My friends from Wish are here already. So... guess I should check them out, alright?" I said and smiled. He just nodded while the other guys seemed to be paying no attention at all. I started towards the clearing and saw Macy looking at me. Bert wasn't though, he was scanning the crowd probably for some freshmen girls to hit on later. I mentally rolled my eyes and noticed Macy looking around. But I _think_, she wasn't doing that for the same reason as Bert. She didn't _seem _like that type of girl, actually.

"What took you guys so long?" I asked Bert when I was already in hearing distance. I stood next to him and watch him roll his eyes.

"What do you think?" He returned my question with a nod to the approaching Kristy and Monotone.

"I heard that." Kristy said. "You know, it takes time to look like this. You can't just throw this sort of outfit together.

"No?" Bert asked, narrowing his eyes. I almost slapped myself on my forehead, almost.

Deciding for a turn on the subject, she said, "A fat lot of good it's doing me here though. There aren't any good prospects."

"What about that guy in the keg?" Bert asked. Obviously, he noticed Kristy was flirting with that guy when she was asking for a beer.

"Please." Kristy heaved a deep sigh. "Can't a girl have high standards? I don't want an ordinary boy."

She brought that up again. And just as she was to explain what she really was looking for, except for the fact that she wants an extraordinary guy, there was a sudden burst of laughter from the jeep parked beside us. Abruptly, a blonde girl in flirty-mode clothes stumbled over. She pointed at Macy and stated clearly. "Hey. I know you. Don't I know you?"

For a minute I thought she was just drunk and she most likely mistaken Macy for somebody else. I also thought that maybe someone from her friends would jump her out of this embarrassment but I just shrugged it off.

"I do, I do." She chanted and I looked reluctantly at her. I noticed that I probably saw her more than once before, just couldn't remember when. Kristy raised her eyebrows in perfect connection with my curious thoughts at the moment.

"You know me, Rachel." Bert interceded quickly. "Bert? I tutored you last summer in Kaplan center, in math?" Oh right. I saw her when I drove Bert off that center for those tutoring sessions.

Rachel, I found out, seemed unmoved by Bert's claim and just ignored him. "Oh shit, I know! We used to run together, right?" Her attention was on Macy again. "In middle school? And now you date that guy, the one who's always yelling at us about bicycling?"

Huh, so Macy had a boyfriend. Certainly not a surprise.

"Recycling?" Macy confirmed.

"Right!" Rachel clapped her hands proudly. "That's it!"

There was another burst of guffaws from the jeep, apparently they were hearing the conversation. Suddenly, someone yelled, "Rachel, you're so freaking stupid!"

"God," she said, choosing to ignore the teasing comment. She sat down between Bert and Macy, laughing. "remember how much fun we used to have at meets? And you, shit, you were fast. Weren't you?"

"Not really." Macy replied, running a hand through her hair. I looked around and noticed everyone was listening to the little chat.

"You were!" Rachel insisted. She poked Bert's arm and I vaguely noticed him smiling. "You should have seen her. She was so fast, like she could..."

Her voice trailed off as she seemed to be looking for the appropriate verb. Everyone was once again looking expectantly at her and she finished it with, "fly."

Kristy snorted. "Like she had freaking wings, you know? She won everything. You know, the only way anyone else ever got to win anything was when you quit."

I understood. I was also part of the team that Coach Joe was handling, but the girls were separated from the voice. As young as we were, I overheard some of the other kids gossiping about how freaking fast some girl was. But then, everyone was in shock when that girl quit. So Macy was that girl...

"Well." Macy said in a tone that somewhat implied she didn't want to talk about this anymore. But this did not stop the girl. Nor my curiosity. I wanted to know why she quitted, I wanted to know why she stopped running ever.

"We were the Running Rovers," Rachel said as she turned to narrate these all to Monica now. "I always thought the name was so dumb, you know? Go Rovers! Woof! Woof!"

"Good God," Kristy said, telling no one that she did not believe any of these. But I did, and I tried to control my eyes from looking at Macy. It wasn't successful though, I caught my gaze turning to her now in curiosity once again.

"Look," Rachel said, clamping a hand on Macy's knee. "I want you to know something, okay?"

I heard Macy heave a sigh of resignation and I saw that cringing thing with her again, just like when she first realized the Bertmobile was an ambulance.

"And what I want you to know is," Rachel continued intently. "that I don't care what anyone says, I don't think you're all weird since that thing happened with your dad. I mean, that was messed up that you were there. Most people couldn't handle that, you know? Seeing someone die like that."

And for once I felt truly grateful for finally understanding. The cringing, the isolated-from-everyone-mysterious-thing about Macy, the reflection of ever present grief in her eyes – that was it. I looked around everyone for their reaction – Macy, unfathomable. Kristy, still disbelieving. Monica, same old. Bert, also disbelieving. But I wasn't sure what expression was painted on my face, considering the fact that I was the only one who believed in what Rachel said.

"Rachel!" A person from the jeep screamed. "Get over here or we're leaving you!" Rachel rolled her eyes for a bit but took the warning as true.

"Gotta go." She said as she stood up, flipping her hair. "I'm going. But I meant what I said, okay? Remember that. Remember what I said. Okay?"

Macy still wasn't reacting to all of these but she was once again deep in her own thoughts. She seemed to recoil, and it seemed like she felt all alone. _Alone._ I repeated in my mind.

"That girl." Kristy said, taking Macy's hand in hers. "is as dumb as a bag of hammers."

"No kidding." Bert mumbled, wincing disgustedly at the girl who just passed by.

Kristy bended over Macy, asking Bert. "Wasn't she the one you had to explain the concept of odd numbers to during that summer math tutoring thing you did?"

Bert nodded in agreement. "Twice."

"Moron."

"Mmm-hmm." Monica said, nodding.

I saw Kristy sipping at her beer and I turned my gaze on Macy once more. I had known what it felt like to lost someone that mattered to you, and I had known what it was like to see all those sorry faces. I assumed she felt that too, and I removed all remorse from my own expression. Instead, I just stared at her and gauged her reaction about the whole thing. She looked back at me and at first I saw she was anxious about my reaction. Then as she gazed right into my eyes, she looked somewhat relieved. And I was too, for not hurting her feelings, and for knowing that I wasn't the only one who felt _that _way too in losing a part of yourself.

"Still," Kristy said absent-mindedly. "I did like her halter top. I have a black skirt that would look just great with that."

I looked at Kristy and as usual, she was wearing one of those attention-grabbing attires. Sigh. Then I noticed the change of outfit in Macy. She was wearing a pair of jeans that fit her perfectly and a tank top that clearly indicated it was not hers. She looked pretty, but it just wasn't _her,_ you know.

The silence that followed among us was not awkward, but not really comfortable. I decided nothing more about the matters were to be discussed, and I was thankful for that. Because some things aren't just meant for everyone to see, for more often than not, they would not realize it immediately. Sure they would understand it some other time, but it was sometimes better to let them find that out for themselves. We never know the things that follow a certain revelation, and it was also better to leave all that to fate.

* * *

**_A/N: If you didn't get the part where he talks to Becky's mom, feel free to ask me any questions regarding it, okay? And for this matter, any other questions that bother you._**

**_So what did you think about this chapter? Review please._**

**_Anyway, continuing from the first author's note, I really do have a story on fp. It's my very first original story and it's kind of intense at the beggining but will surely lighten after about 4 chapters. I post it under the same pen name and it's called The First Seat to the Right. Here's a sneak peek:_**

_How to create the evillest game of all evil games? Simple. _

1. Break a girl's heart.  
2. Let her sulk and think that guys are useless jerks.  
3. Get her drunk.  
4. Break her heart once more.  
5. Make her an extreme feminist.  
6. Add a few more alcoholic drinks.  
7. Voila! The girl would create this evil heartbreaking game!

_For best results, let her play the game with a seriously hot and mysterious guy. Add a crazy BFF, a lot of lies, MORE HORMONES, and several shots of evilness once a week.  
P.S. Make sure to tell me who'd be the **winners **__when the game ends!_

**_Please check it out and review! (Just search for the story or my penname because ff won't let me put the link, ugh...)Till next time!_**


	7. Chapter 7

**_A/N: I'm sorry for not updating in quite a while. Things just got a little rought but thankfully I got this chapter out. Anyway, this chapter is the super-sized! Just for you. And you know what? I just got 1000+ hits, yaaaaaaaayyy! Can you believe it? So, a big thanks to all readers, but a bigger bunch to those who reviewed:_**

**_HereAfter: You are just absolutely awesome. And thanks for pointing out some random mistakes. Also, if I could just give you a tight bear hug! Awww..._**

**_hobofreak6715: Thanks for being such a regular reviewer. I just hope you'd get, you know, badder? Perhaps a little constructive criticism? That would be amazing! Thanks really for making my day. Or week, in fact._**

**_randomrayyxx3: I'm glad you liked it. I don't really think I'm giving much of his personality well but I'm trying to work that. Promise. Anyway, thank you very much!_**

**_nolechic512: Here's an update, finally. And you know what, here's Wes/Macy situations. I hope you continue reading and reviewing._**

**_Nina: Here's more. Just for all of you._**

**_komi: I'm glad you loved it. You don't know how you taped a smile on my face with those few words._**

**_InTheRain13: Sigh. How can I say you're just awesome? How about cyber ice cream this weekend? What do you think? I'd semd you a free tub if you'd like. LOL. Now I'm rambling._**

**_Imyourwonderland: Cute penname. LOL. I'm just thankful that you like it because for some reason or another, I just feel like I'm not writing good. So really thanks for all the reassurance._**

**_So to all of you who read this, I just wanna let you know that I love you all and here's an update with a cherry on top and rainbow-colored sprinkles._**

**

* * *

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Chapter 7

After that encounter with Rachel, who got dragged by her friends an hour ago, we went our own ways. Bert and I trudged on to Kris who promised to give something then went to Jake and the guys again, hanging out there for a little bit. Flashlights were gleaming on certain parts on every tree and since it was already late, the lights were clearly pointed out in the dark. I knew my body was there with the guys, but my mind was somewhere farther off. Maybe it was that sense of responsibility that inhibited me to grab some beer, for I know I had to watch out for Bert and the others. Maybe it was the instinct that if I were to drink, something bad would yet again follow. Maybe my mind was too busy fracturing the knowledge of what really happened before and still trying to solve my own problems. Whatever it was, it didn't really matter at all. My gaze went on once again to the Bertmobile and I was right.

They, meaning Kristy, Monotone and Macy, all had their cups and was sipping what seemed like _not _their first cups. So, being the overprotective brother that I am, I had to check if Bert was drinking with them. Of course I would not refrain him, I would only _moderate_ things, you know.

"Kay. See you 'round." Jake's friend slurred. I waved goodbye and led myself to the Bertmobile, carrying the pieces Kris had given me. As soon as I was capable of really seeing them, I noticed Bert wasn't there. Then suddenly a lightbulb flashed in my head. Of course, I guess I just forgot that after talking with Kris, I let Bert wander off with some freshmen he knew. Or rather, wander off to find new freshmen girls to get to know. I sighed, knowing that the matters with Becky were never leaving my mind and that it had affected my way of thinking now. But never would I have to show it to everyone. Of course it would be difficult for me, but they needed not to be affected too. This was my life after all.

Bert was somewhere off, I already waved goodbye to the guys, and now there was nothing left to do.

"What I really would like is a smart boy." Kristy said. I looked over to them and saw that they weren't even noticing me here. So, out of boredom, I chose to listen to them. I knew the thing about eavesdroppers but I wasn't here to eavesdrop, if that made sense. I knew the matters they were discussing were something only girls would understand eye-to-eye, so deciding it wouldn't even matter to me, I continued listening to them. The metal rods I was holding didn't make a rather loud sound as I set it on the ground, thankfully.

"I'm sick of guys who can't even remember my name, much less spelt it. Someone really focused and brainy. That's what I want." Kristy explained. So they were talking about boys.

"No, you don't." Macy replied self-assuredly. But that's only what I heard, I didn't see their exact reactions so I really wasn't sure. "I had a boyfriend like that. Or have. Or sort of have."

I didn't know what elaboration from her was I expecting, but I somehow knew it wasn't that. But, what did I know? I really still didn't know her after all. What with the perfect girl image, nothing was ever to be expected behind her mask, and no one really knew if she wore a mask in the first place.

"Oh, those are the worst." Kristy said.

"What are?" Macy asked.

"Sort-of boyfriends." She answered Macy's confused tone. Confused from the tone of her voice, that was. "You know, they sort of like you, then they sort of don't. The only thing they're absolutely sure of is that they want to get into your pants. I hate that."

Just for a short time of listening I knew that girls really were confusing. I mean, they say things, more like cryptic remarks really, that confuse that hell out of me.

"Mmm-hmmm." Monica spoke for the first time. If you could call her statements as speaking.

"Actually, it's not like that exactly." Macy disagreed with them, though. "We're more sort of not together, and not broken up. We're on a break."

"A break." Kristy said incredulously. "Meaning..."

"Meaning that there were some concerns about us not wanting the same things, not having the same expectations." Macy told her. Again, she surprised me because admittedly, I thought they were on a break because of what Kristy said before. You know, the sort-of-boyfriends-only-there-to-get-into-girls'-pants thing. But I was proven wrong. "So we've agreed to not be in contact until the end of the summer, and then we're going to see where we stand."

The only thing that came to my mind then that Macy and her sort-of boyfriend's relationship was pretty serious. I mean, she did not look old at all and I was pretty sure the guy was not old too, but they seemed really mature, Macy having said those things.

"That is just so very mature." Kristy were in the same line as my thoughts.

"Well, that's Jason." Macy said in the as-a-matter-of-fact manner. "It was his idea, really."

"How long has this break been going on?" Kristy asked.

"Since the night I met you." She answered. "He'd just emailed me about it, like, an hour earlier."

"That is so funny. Because that night, I was picking up on something, like you had a boyfriend or were in some sort of situation." Kristy paused for a millisecond. "Didn't I say that, that night?"

"Mmm-hmm." Monica said.

"You just looked... taken, you know? Plus you hardly reacted to Wes." Kristy said. And that had been my cue to leave. My less humiliated side caused me to stay however, knowing that there was something completely missing in the picture. And I knew what was missing, the reason behind the breakup still wasn't mentioned. Macy hadn't really specified the reason and my curiosity got the best of me. So I decided to stay.

But hey, I just had to tune them out. I just had to.

Fortunately I was successful in that little tuning out of mine, because only a few words were seeping through my deep concentration.

"Sawoon?" Macy's curious voice.

A few seconds.

"Bettaquit." Monotone's warning.

"Myers School?" Macy asked again. This time I knew the swoon – is that the word they used? – subject was through. And that had been my cue to stop tuning them out. Sigh. At least this was something I could take without humiliating myself.

"Yeah. It's a reform school." Kristy said. I was expecting Macy to ask more questions from that, but surprisingly a moment of short-lived silence followed.

"Okay," Kristy broke it first. "Tell us about the sort-of boyfriend."

And I was right to stay after all. My curiosity got what it wanted, I just hoped it wouldn't kill the cat. Or _me,_ in this case.

"Oh, we've been dating for a year and a half." Macy said and paused a little, sipping her drink I suppose. "He went away for the summer and a couple of weeks after he left, he decided maybe it was better that we take this break. I was really upset about it. I still am, actually."

"So he found someone else..." Kristy spelled out. But I wasn't that sure of that, because Macy and her sort-of boyfriend's relationship seemed pretty mature, as I've stated before. Cheating didn't seem like a probable cause. I knew there was something _deeper _in there.

"No, it's not like that." Macy said. "He's at Brain Camp."

"Huh?" A _monotonous _voice asked.

"Brain Camp. It's like a smart-kid thing."

"Then he found someone else at Brain Camp." Kristy pressed.

"No, it's not about someone else." Macy said with a numb feeling. I sure as hell wasn't sure she didn't feel exactly that, but from what I've heard of her dull melancholy tone, that's what it seemed.

"Then what is it about?" Kristy asked as if cheating was the only reason for a break.

"Well, a lot of things." Macy hesitated. She seemed somewhat... careful? Regretful or something? That I didn't know. Then she took a breath or more like a resigned sigh really and decided to continue.

"Basically, it came down to the fact that I ended an email by saying I loved him, which is, you know, big, and it made him uncomfortable. And he felt that I wasn't focused enough on my job at the library. There's probably more but that's the main stuff."

That sounded, if not stupid... shallow? I mean, he had been dating the guy for a year and a half and just because _he felt _like Macy wasn't focused enough, he decided for a break? And that was not even likely since Macy had always been a good employee at Wish. And, what was the matter if she had said 'I love you' if that's how she really felt? Which is probably true since they had been together for more than a year already. It was just so petty. I probably sounded like a hypocrite but it was hard to believe really.

"Wait a second. You've been dating a year and a half and you can't tell the guy you love him?" Kristy echoed my thoughts a minute later.

"It's complicated." Macy said.

"And he broke up with you because he didn't think you were focused enough on your job performance?"

"The library is very important to him." Macy said. And from the beginning, she was kind of...defending the guy. Of course he was her sort-of boyfriend but still, for her to be oblivious to as how a jerk that guy was.

"Is he ninety years old?"

"You don't understand. He's been, like, my life for the last year and a half. He's made me a better person."

A silence ensued.

"How?" Kristy finally asked.

"Well," Macy started. "he's perfect, you know? Great in school, smart, all these achievements. He can do anything. And when I was with him, it was like, good for me. It made me better, too."

"Until..." Kristy drawled.

"Until I let him down. I pushed too hard, I got too attached. He has high standards."

_Snobbish nerdy brainiac._

"And you don't." Kristy said.

"Of course I do."

"Nuh-uh." Monica said.

"Sure doesn't seem like it."

"Why not?"

"Listen to yourself." Kristy told Macy. "God! Are you actually going to sit there and say he was justified in dumping you because you dared to get too attached to him after a year and a half? Or because you didn't take some stupid job at the library as seriously as he thought you should?"

Even Kristy thought the same as me. And for once I was thankful she was a fearless talker, because Macy certainly needed to hear this.

"Look," She continued. "I don't know you that well. I'll admit that. But what I see is a girl any guy, especially some library nerd who's off at Cranium Camp – "

"Brain Camp." Macy said.

" – would totally want to hear say she loved him. You're smart, you're gorgeous, you're a good person. I mean, what makes him such a catch anyway? Who is he to judge?"

Kristy undoubtedly got that right. From the little time that I've known Macy, I already thought that she was a smart and good person. And not only thought, _I knew._

"He's Jason." _Jason, the nerdy snob._

"Well, he's a fuckhead. And if I were you, I'd be glad to be rid of him. Because anyone that can make you feel bad about yourself is toxic, you know?"

"He doesn't make me feel bad about myself." Macy told Kristy. Or rather told herself.

"What you need, what you deserve, is a guy who adores you for what you are. Who doesn't see you as a project, but a prize. You know?"

'_She doesn't know.' _I wanted to answer Kristy.

"I'm no prize." Macy said. I fought the urge to look at her but apparently, it won. I saw something in her eyes I hadn't seen in anyone before. The kind of look you saw on the little train that tried to get to the end of the railroad, or the young dragon trying too hard to fly. Only in Macy's eyes told that she tried her hardest for something... Something like being perfect.

"Yes. You are. What sucks is how you can't even see it."

"I'm not picking on you." Kristy assured her.

"No?" She asked as if she was really sure that Kristy was just really doing that.

"Look. We both know life is short, Macy." I flinched. "Too short to waste a single second with anyone who doesn't appreciate and value you."

"You said the other day life was long." She retorted. "Which is it?"

"It's both. It all depends on how you choose to live it. It's like forever, always changing."

"Nothing can be two opposites at once. It's impossible." Macy said.

"No. What's impossible is that we actually think it could be anything other than that. Look, when I was in the hospital, right after the accident, they thought I was going to die. I was really fucked up, big time."

"Uh-huh." Monica spoke for the third time in the whole conversation.

"Then, life was very short, literally. But now that I'm better, it seems so long I have to squint to see even the edges of it. It's all in the view, Macy. That's what I mean about forever, too. For any one of us our forever could end in an hour, or a hundred years from now. You can never know for sure, so you'd better make every second count."

I could admit, Kristy really seemed to make sense of every solitary word she spoke tonight.

"Mmm-hmmm." Monica agreed.

"What you have to decide," Kristy continued. "is how you want your life to be. If your forever was ending tomorrow, would this be how you'd want to have spent it?" It seemed like my forever was already past. Mom's encouraging smiles and embraces, the sense of being _whole,_ the content gazes from Becky through the years... That was how I spent my forever. But could it be that it hadn't ended yet? Was that really what I wanted for eternity? And with that, I still had no answer to.

"Listen, the truth is, nothing is guaranteed. You know that more than anybody. So don't be afraid. Be alive."

"It's the same thing." Macy stated.

"What is?"

"Being afraid and being alive." Her words had something in it that made me think she had always been in the dark. Like me. Afraid to just let go, and be yourself and do whatever you want for once. But had she always been like that? All her life?

"No. Macy, no. It's not."

It was as if the words were also meant for me. And it really had stabbed hard. I wanted to ask Kristy about what she meant by that. If it is not the same, then what is the difference? These questions were meant to be unsaid after all, because Kristy and Monica headed off to the keg to get more beer. And without thinking about it, I headed off to the back bumper of the Bertmobile, where Macy was.

"Hey." I called when I was in hearing distance. I sat down beside her and put down the rebar near me. Then asked casually, "Where is everybody?"

"The keg." She said and nodded toward it.

"Oh. Right." I said. I suddenly realized it was a stupid question to ask, knowing that the keg was in full view from here. Monica was piping another cigarette and Kristy was just raising a toast. Everything here seemed alive at the moment. Like this was an escape, you know. Temporary insanity, as time seemed frozen for a bit. What I meant was that like this was unreal. A point where you have to escape the real world for a minute.

"So what is that?" Macy asked and I just raised my eyebrows. "Your tattoo, I mean. I've never been able to see what it is."

"Oh." I said and tugged the sleeve up. "It's just this design. You saw it that first day you came out to Delia's, right?" She nodded and just looked at it for a bit.

"Right. Does it mean something?" She asked again.

"Sort of." I said and unthinkingly found it inadequate as the words that followed just needed to be said. "It's something my mom used to draw for me when I was a kid."

"Really."

"Yeah. She had this whole thing about the hand and the heart, how they were connected." I turned to face her. "You know, feeling and action are always linked, one can't exist without the other. It's sort of a hippie thing. She's into that stuff."

"I like it." She said. "I mean, the idea of it. It makes sense."

I looked down at my tattoo again and found myself saying the memories aloud. "After she died, I started tinkering with it, you know, with the welding. This one has the circle, the one on the road has the barbed wire. They're all different, but with the same basic idea."

"Like a series."

"I guess. Mostly I'm just trying to get it right, whatever that means."

"It's hard to do." Macy said and I just looked at her.

"What is?" I asked.

"Get it right." She said this like she hadn't meant to do so. But for a moment I was struck by those three words. I just looked at her for a bit and know there was something inside that she just wanted nobody to know. Like she was trying to show a side of her while try to hide another which really is _her._ I didn't know if that made sense but that's how it felt. _Get it right._ With those three words, it seemed as though she said the thing she had been doing all her life. But what did I know? I was just a stranger to her, in fact.

"Yeah." I just said. "It is."

"I'm sorry about your mom." She said.

"I'm sorry about your dad." I said, looking forward. "I remember him from coaching the Lakeview Zips, when I was a kid. He was great."

I never saw her flinch but I knew she was somehow affected just by the mention of her dad. Then I remembered one thing that once poked my curiosity. "So why'd you stop?"

"Stop what?"

"Running."

"I don't know." She paused for a breath. "I just wasn't into it anymore."

"How fast were you?" I asked her, suddenly recalling Rachel's words from a while ago.

"Not that fast." Macy said hesitantly.

"You mean you couldn't... fly?" I smiled at her.

"No. I couldn't fly." She said.

"What was your best time for the mile?"

"Why?" Macy asked and I was caught off-guard. Not really, actually, since my curiosity was just at its highest peak tonight.

"Just wondering." I answered. "I mean, I run. I'm curious."

"I don't remember." She said and for one reason or another I didn't fully believe it.

"Oh, come on, tell me." I leaned and bumped my shoulder with hers. "I can take it."

"Okay, fine." She said and I smiled. It was just nice how she seemed to open up to me, even just for a very little teeny-tiny bit. Didn't know why I was curious in the first place. "My best was five minutes five seconds."

"Oh." I said, looking at her. She really was good, I mean, that was like really good. I never ran faster than that, let alone near that speed.

"What? What's yours?"

I coughed inconspicuously and said, "Never mind."

"Oh, see, that's not fair." She pointed out. I fiddled with the metals subconsciously and sighed.

"It's more than five-five." I leaned back and said. "Let's leave it at that."

"That was years ago. Now I probably couldn't even do half a mile in that time."

"I bet you could." I contradicted. "I'd bet you could be faster than you think. Though maybe not fast enough to fly." I smiled at her again.

She smiled for once. "You could outrun me easily, I bet."

"Well," I said. "Maybe someday we'll find out."

I looked ahead and saw Bert, Kristy and Monica coming. I was slightly waiting for her to accept the challenge but then Bert spoke up.

"Twenty minutes to curfew." He said as he glanced at his watch. "We need to go."

"Oh my God," Kristy said in mock horror. "you might actually have to go over twenty-five to get us home in time."

Bert just made a face and climbed to the driver's side. I followed suite and sat in the passenger's seat, allowing myself one glance across Macy as she and Kristy went in the ambulance.

* * *

**_I know you guys are there so stay tuned for more. Please tell me what you think. You know, click that lil green button below. Pretty please? And tell me immediately if there are grammatical and spelling mistakes. Please?_**

**_By the way, more action in the next chapter. So watch out. And review. And review more. =)_**


	8. Chapter 8

**_A/N: Oh my. An update, finally. So here's the things, I haven't updated for almost 3 weeks because I have been really busy recently due to my birthday. Anyway, finally, I'm 13 years old! Yaaayy! (Though I really can't see the difference from being twelve, you know, perks and all that.) But seriously, 1800+ hits, that's like a birthday present! Yippee. And thanks to all for continuing with this story, review replies are at the bottom of this chapter._**

**_Soooo, I think that this author's note is long enough already, and I should end it up here. More at the end anyway. So just, read on and review._**

Chapter 8

"Leave. Now." Her voice was insistent as she pushed me away. I should've been mad, but I couldn't bring myself to be. Because after all, I knew that that was the best thing for me to do, at least for her.

"Becky..." I still tried to soften her up, but I guess there was just no way around to getting her to talk to me.

"I said... Leave." She said and turned her back away from me. She only does that when she was crying, just as she was now. I had this urge to wrap my arms around her and wipe her tears with my fingers, but it wasn't possible. Especially now that she wouldn't even want to talk to me. I just sighed and she continued snapping at me.

"What part of that obviously English word do you not understand? Is it so hard? Okay, if you don't know what to do, I'd tell you. First off, turn around . Second, move a foot – left, right or whatever – then move the other one. Repeat step number 2. That's not so hard, is it?"

I sighed again and turned my back. "If that's what you want me to do... okay. I'll leave. But you should know that I'll always be here on the wings. If... if you want to talk about _it, _just say so."

"Wes..." Her voice now trailed off and I turned to look at her. She was looking at me, without any trace of a tear in her face, but her expression softened a little bit. "You know I love you, but I need sometime alone. I have to think about some things. So, thanks for everything."

"I love you too, so as I've said, tell me when you're ready to open up about those things. Bye Becky." I sighed and walked away. She mumbled a quick bye before I was fully in no hearing distance and I never turned to look back at her once again. This was a tough time for her, I knew it had something to do with her parents, but I just wasn't sure what it exactly was. But if quietude she needed, then she could have it. I didn't want to make things any harder for her.

My truck was in the farthest left corner of the parking lot of Evergreen, and I got my keys from my pocket. I rode in, started the engine, and drove away, with one last glance at the rehab center.

It was a Sunday morning, and before anything else, I decided to finally go visit Becky. But still as dense as ever, she continued shoving me away. I wanted to talk to her about the breaking down of her mother ages ago, to ask her what really happened, and to let her open up with me for once. But before any of that came about, she, yet again, alienated me, alienated _us_.

See, when we first met at Myers, she caught my attention with this mysterious vibe about her. I actually never knew about any of that still, but it felt like she was a conundrum waiting to be solved. So I tried. And within trying, I fell for her. Actually, the questions about her still were unanswered, but I plan on doing so. Questions like why had she ever tried shoplifting, when she could afford whatever that was? Why did she engage in pot? Why wouldn't she want to open up even to her family? Sigh. These were still lingering in my mind but I knew someday they had to be answered. They just had.

After just a few minutes of driving warily, I arrived at the farmer's market.

"Hi Henry." I said as I brushed past him on the way to my sculptures. Odd how I only noticed now that he and my uncle were of the same name. Ugh, really I could take any sort of distraction now. Even the alikeness of random people's names.

"Oh, Wes." He greeted too and clapped me on the back. I headed to my works and sat on a stool.

Most of them are still covered in white cloths and I removed them immediately. After getting everything ready, I settled back down and sighed. Sundays were definitely not the day where many people visit and take a look, so I guess I shouldn't have headed here. Nevertheless this was still some sort of income and I wouldn't want to waste time at home when I could do more productive things such as this, in some way at least.

So I decided to stand up and look at some of my works to check if some need refurbishing whatsoever.

The one in the corner was just a simple angel, though it was sort of huge. It had this cheerful stance and stood in a way that it conveyed an easy-going attitude about it_. _From the way its mouth was grinning crookedly, a result of the metal I used for it, its large innocent water-bottle-cap eyes, its almost-spreading wings – everything was so... blithe. Yet, I added barbwire for its halo, to give a hint of what this angel was not to be expected, a little bit of rebellion, so to say. I remember I got the inspiration when I babysat Lucy for a while during that particular Saturday morning. She wanted me to play pretend-doctor with her so I sat there as her patient. She just hovered around mostly and talked about how she really wanted to be a doctor when she grew up. but I teased her into allowing me to be the doctor for once. Then finally it was her turn to be the patient, I pretended to examine her for a while then I tickled her mercilessly and adorable giggles exploded from her room. She ran and when I caught up with her in the kitchen, she shoved cotton candy on my face, then I noticed Delia was already there. I smiled sheepishly and looked at Lucy's somewhat scared yet mischievous expression. Oh the easiness of childhood.

I never expected to create the next angel, but not braggingly speaking, it was somehow surprising it wasn't sold yet. It was a little angel, with little turning hearts hanging by its halfway raised arms. I wasn't that type of person that was wearing his heart on his sleeve, but when I once got Becky to open up about her childhood years, the ballet and all that, I was just elated that I created this little one. So, deciding that the memory was just enough to cause a little flitter of worry in my stomach, I passed that angel up and moved to the next one.

And just as I was observing more, this yellow dress clad woman with a rather large hat came over to me.

"Oh my God. These are wonderful. Such enthralling pieces." She gushed and I looked at her. She was probably in her mid-thirties, with laugh lines on her face. This woman was the probably kind of person that could get you to smile with her own beam. "Your work has a lot of potential."

"Thanks, ma'am." I replied.

"Oh." She chuckled a bit. "Call me Ann." She then paused and went further to observe. "Oh, This is just the best gift for my sister, she is just a sucker for angels."

I just nodded and smiled in my thoroughly trained kind of way, the one that showed I was interested. Actually, I was, considering she was pointing to the big one I just critiqued a while ago.

"And the irony of its rather large size to its unexplainable naivety, oh." She said then looked at me. "I'm going to take this, young man."

"My name's Wes." I said, feeling the need to be introduced as I could sense she would be one of those people who could buy an acceptable amount of my works. "Um, should I carry this to your car?"

"Oh, no, no. Leave it there. Just put a reserved sign or something. Is that alright?"

"Sure, no problem." I shrugged.

"Then, how much is your price for this artwork?"

"It depends on you, ma'am. You can give the right price." I said, feeling all _chivalry isn't dead_.

"Such amazing work for a great artist." She said, then handed me a check. "Take this."

I took it reluctantly and glanced immediately. It was a little over the usual people give, okay, so maybe _a lot over_ the usual. "Are you sure, ma'am? I mean..."

She cut me off with a dismissive wave of her hand. "That's hardly worth the effort I see you've exerted in these creations. You deserve it."

"Hardly. But, thank you very much ma'am. I really really appreciate it." I said then looked her in the eyes to further show my sincerity.

"So, just save it for me and I'd order someone to pick it tomorrow. Or maybe I'd be the one to pick it up tomorrow. Okay?" She said and smiled. I smiled back and looked at something that caught my eye quite abruptly.

There was Macy. With a lady with the same shade of hair and eyes as her. Macy was showing something orange-y to the lady with her and they were talking, probably about the orange thing.

"Sure." I replied to the woman who purchased the angel.

"See you around." She said, waved, and walked away. I quickly put a Sold sign in the angel and looked back to confirm it really was Macy I saw.

She glanced at me and met my eyes. It really was her, and so, I smiled and waved. In her face was sort of a small smile as she and her relative – I was sure, considering their lightly comparable looks – walked to where I was.

"Hey." I greeted when they reached me. "I thought that was you."

"Hi." Macy replied.

"These are amazing." The lady said as she ran her fingers through the angel. "I just love their medium."

"Thanks." I quickly answered. "It's all from the junkyard."

"This is Wes." Macy introduced. "Wes, this is my sister, Caroline."

I was, in a way, right. They were related, in fact, mainly related.

"Nice to meet you." Caroline said and we shook hands. She then continued scrutinizing the angels. "What's great about this is the contrast. It's real juxtaposition between subject matter and materials."

I wasn't sure what to feel. Flabbergasted that I didn't know whether I could agree with Caroline's explanation of my creations? Or to feel even more stunned that she was speaking in a, I don't know, professionally artsy kind of way? My eyebrow was raised before I knew it and I looked over to Macy who was just shaking her head.

"See, it's one thing to do angels." Caroline explained further, better than I could explain my work ever, I think. "but what's crucial here is how the medium spells out the concept. Angels, by definition, are supposed to be perfect. So by building them out of rusty pieces, and discards and scraps, the artist is making a statement about the fallibility of even the most ideal creatures."

I didn't know how I was supposed to put words in my creating those angels, but Macy's sister put her own concept into them. And they were surprisingly kind of true, were her observations the ones I was supposed to say at all? I mean, I never did voice out my reasons for creating them, and I never did try to think of them. It was just that the junk was something I had in my reach, and I had to make the most of what I had so I created something special within them. But in some dumbfounding way, there was truth in her words, in her sudden exclamation.

"Wow." Macy said when her sister moved on to inspect other pieces. "I'm impressed." What she was impressed at, I didn't know.

"Me too." I replied, all of a sudden blurting out what I was thinking. "I had no idea. I just couldn't afford new materials when I started."

Macy laughed, a laid-back endearing sound, and I couldn't help smiling at her. It was a surprise to see her here in the farmer's market, an even greater surprise to start a light-hearted conversation with her. It just felt... nice. The greatest surprise was I couldn't know why.

"Oh, wow," Caroline called out, and we both looked at her. "is this sheet metal you used here? For the face?"

"That's an old Coke sign." I informed her. "I found it at the dump."

"A Coke sign." She repeated. "And the bottle caps... it's the inevitable commingling of commerce and religion. I love that!"

"Right." I said, then turned to whisper something to Macy. "Just liked the Coke sign, actually."

"Of course you did." She replied with a playful smile.

The gentle wind suddenly took its toll and some of the angel's halos spun right round. Something caught Macy's attention – I guess – as she peered behind a medium sized angel.

"What is this?" She asked, touching a smaller angel's halo. The smaller angel was something I got the inspiration not from my life, but from others. Yeah, I got it when I saw a man throwing random stones at the beach, looking all melancholy. I watched him from a distance and I knew he was like Beck, or perhaps every person on the planet, a puzzle to be solved. Maybe he, himself, needed answers to the questions in his mind. Maybe he needed the key to the locks that had always appeared in his life. I didn't know, but I could sense the confusion from him, and I knew there was something he wanted. So, yet again, I used irony. I aspired life's conundrums in that angel, but added a bit of true bliss.

"Sea glass." I replied, leaning down casually. "See the shapes? No rough edges."

"Oh, right." She said. "That's so cool."

"It's hard to find." I said, touching the halo a bit to send it spinning again. I couldn't feel warmth from Macy's form even when she was so close to me. Maybe the breeze caused her to shiver a bit. I shook my head mentally and led myself to focus on the current conversation. "I bought that collection at a flea market, for, like, two bucks. I wasn't sure what I was going to use it for, then, but it seemed to good a thing to pass up."

"It's beautiful." She said, and I could tell by the look in her eyes that she liked that angel. Suddenly, I wanted to do something like I never wanted before, for no reason at all.

"You want it?" I asked.

"I couldn't." She said.

"Sure you can. I'm offering." I picked the little angel up. "Here."

"Wes. I can't." She insisted.

"You can. You'll pay me back somehow." I taunted just to get her to accept it.

"How?" She asked. I never expected her to really ask that, knowing that it was already a reassurance. Still, Macy was smart.

"Someday, you'll agree to run that mile with me. And then we'll know for sure whether you can kick my ass." I said, half-serious and half-joking.

"I'd rather pay you for it. How much?" I didn't want her to get that defensive about it, but whenever I get so much as near to the subject of her running, she always guarded everything she said or did.

"Macy, I was kidding. I know you could kick my ass." I said, then smiled ruefully. A thought came to my mind, one that told me if she should insist, I should too. "Look. Just take it."

"Okay." She said, and I smiled. I just couldn't help it, though I didn't know why. "But I'm paying you back, somehow, sometime."

"Sure." I said, not meaning it, actually. Because payback or none, it was okay to me. At least I got her to accept my little present, if you could call it that. "Whatever you want."

Her sister was coming near now and was talking on the phone. "...you should just see these. They're so much better than those iron herons they sell at Attache Gardens for hundreds of dollars. Well, I know you liked those, honey, but these are better. They are."

"Iron herons?" I asked Macy, still the trace of that smile on my face.

"She lives in Atlanta." She said.

"Love you, bye!" Caroline then exclaimed to the phone. "All right, let's talk prices." She said to me.

I just nodded and constantly tuned out her explanations for them, although there were undeniable words such as _hidden resoluteness, coercion of heart's and mind's contemplations, amiable vigour, etc._ Truth be told, I hadn't understood half of it.

She set an appointment with me to see the bigger pieces I had at my workshop, and she had chosen three angels to bring home. Also, I tried to talk her out of giving a rather large payment.

"A steal. Really. You should be charging more." She _tsk_ed while handing me the check.

"Maybe if I show someplace else, but it's hard to get pricey when you have baked goods on either side of you."

"You will show someplace else. It's only a matter of time." She said with a nod of her head, then turned to her watch. "Oh Macy, we have to run. I told Mom we'd be home for lunch so we could look at the rest of those color swatches."

"Well, thank you again." Macy said to me.

"No problem." I said and then glanced at Caroline. "Thanks for the business."

"That's not me." She said. "It's all her."

"Still," I said. "Thanks anyway."

"Excuse me," A woman then called out near the sculpture that had the Sold sign. "do you have others like this?"

I looked back then waved goodbye to Macy. "I should go, I guess."

"Go," She said. "I'll see you later."

"Yeah. See you around."

With one last smile at each other I walked off to the woman near the big angel.

After a few minutes of non-stop questions, she set an appointment to go also at my workshop to see larger pieces, but for now she bought a little heart in hand.

This Sunday was not boring indeed, having an unexpected number of customers, and most of all a much, much more unexpected encounter with her sister and Macy herself.

* * *

**_Actually, I wasn't too elated with this chapter. But what do I know, when was I, really? Sigh, I know I'm probably being too, you know, down-to-earth in a fake kind of way, but really, I feel so happy that my experiment has gone this way! It wasn't really supposed to be, but don't get me wrong, I love you all! But a lot more love to my reviewers, namely:_**

**_randomrayyxx3: Thank you so much for being such a consistent reviewer. I mean, most people here don't take so much time to review at least once, but you. Oh God, you review every chapter. And thanks for really cheering me up with every one of your review. You know what, these reviews are really what keeps me writing. So, kudos to you! And if I could, I'd share you some of my cake from my birthday. LOL._**

**_nolechic512: I'm soooo glad you're liking my fic. Although I want to apologize for so much as hurrying the last chapter. Really, it was rushed. Anyway, thanks. Your reviews, all of you people, make the best birthday present ever. That sounded like an Emmy award speech. Whew._**

**_hobofreak6715: Thank you very much for taking time to give concrit! Oh my, I just wish you'd still continue to read on. I'm so glad you're a constant reviewer, you wouldn't believe how thankful I am for that._**

**_HereAfter: I want to apologize for this chapter, like, so much. Because even though it wasn't rushed, I didn't follow your advice, still. Sigh, here's the thing. I hadn't reread or edit it. Because I don't know! Editing is the bane of my existence. So yeah. (That was pure drama. LOL. But here's the real review reply, I thank you so much for giving me advice, let alone review! I feel like I owe you or something for continuously reading on and giving me the best of the best suggestions. Thanks for like a billionth time!)_**

**_Imyourwonderland: Aw, that's so cute. It's an awesome coincidence that Alice is a really really really fantastic character on Twilight! Whoah, can't believe I just said that. But really, I love her. She's just so cute. Anyways, thanks for the love._**

**_InTheRain13: Thanks for every review. You wouldn't know how much your reviews make my week, and you wouldn't know how much I squeal around here my sister thinks I'm losing my mind. LOL. Anyway, I love your, um, username because I'm 13 already! Hahah._**

**_BlondieVamp7: Thanks for the review. And to explain the back story, Becky has some problems and her mom is too upset about it. Wes doesn't know anything about it yet but will hopefully as the story continues. Anyway, here's more action about it in this chapter._**

**_TeddyBear 8p: You're right. Wes is amazing. Sigh._**

**_Rachel: Oh God. Please calm down. Please. I'm hyperventilating. LOL. Anyway, to stop you from, um, jumping, here's Chapter 8! Yaaay. Hope you don't continue whatever you're planning, because I'd die of misery! I'd miss you so much! LOL._**

**_britttt: Thanks for the compliment! Sometimes, though, I feel like I'm not giving credit to how Sarah Dessen wrote Wes. It's just that, I couldn't help it. But then, your reviews are there to cheer me up so yaaaaaaayy!_**

**_dylan typography: Me too! I'm waiting anxiously to find out what's going through his head in some parts. By the way, thanks for reviewing! And I hope I do not get too personal, but is dylan your real name? Because it's just, I don't know, attractive to me. I don't know if I'm just weird but I found myself loving your name. LOL._**

**_tWiLiGhTeR94: Can't wait till Truth either! Thanks for the review! Hope you'll continue reading._**

**_cocoacharm15: Thank you very much! I'm so thankful you like it!_**

**_Sheli: Sigh. Thanks for all that you said. I'm still figuring out what I did to deserve that, and good luck to me. But, I'm not just saying this for you to pity me, but no other people read this except for you in cyberspace. My parents and sister don't even know about me writing this, because they haven't read the book. I want to send this to my bestfriend but I don't know, she also hasn't read the book yet and I don't know if she ever will. So, thanks for really encouraging me. Still, I can't believe you really think I could get this published. That is such a high honour and I promise to try my best to really live up to your expectations. Thanks really! I love you like you wouldn't believe._**

**_So, good morning to all since its 2am here and my mom's going to kill me if she finds out I stayed up this late. I love you all and I just wish you'd take time to click the little button and give your insight. Thanks to all! And please review. Please? Pretty pretty please?_**

* * *


	9. Chapter 9

**_A/N: Oh my. I'm so sorry for not updating immediately. Basically, I just have no excuse but being too lazy to type this up. Sigh. Forgive me please. Anyway, I'm just so glad. You know why? Because last update, as you've noticed I had a total of 1800 hits. Now it's gone up to 2700! Yippee! No, I'm not saying this to be arrogant and such, I'm saying this to let you know how much I appreciate it that you read this outlet of mine._**

**_Anyways, check out personal notes to reviewers at the end. Enjoy this chapter!_**

* * *

Chapter 9

From the moment we arrived here and started working, I noticed Macy continually stiffening and tensing up. I didn't know why, though, or if it was even real or just a figment of my imagination. Still, I couldn't help but notice. And worry, too.

Anyway, at the moment, we were shelling shrimps at the best speed we could manage since Delia forgot to do so earlier. I was at the kitchen with Macy while Kristy and Monica were serving. Delia was doing... I didn't know, actually. But a while ago, she was tensing up too, and obviously it was because of Monica carrying a tray of wineglasses. Maybe Macy was just worried about that too.

Macy was also quiet, I observed, and not just the quiet she was always being. It was an unusual kind of quiet, I could sense. I got another shrimp and started peeling the shell while I watched her do the same. But wait. It wasn't actually the same. I was still not finished with the one I got while she grabbed another, thus already shelling five.

"Unbelievable." I said.

"What?" She asked incredulously.

"Look at that." I nodded at the pile of shrimps in front of her. Which was, embarrassingly, twice the size of the pile in front of me. "How are you doing those so fast?"

"I'm not." She said as she put another one onto her pile. I watched her do so, and turned at the one I was still not done with. Apparently, she didn't notice how impressive she's doing, or she just didn't acknowledge the fact, as for her being very modest. Either way, I didn't know. But I wanted to, that's for sure. I didn't know her personality _yet_ well, and that piqued my curiosity again.

"I've been watching you." I said. "And while I'm working on this one, you've done five at least."

"Six." I counted. "This is getting embarrassing. How'd you learn to do that?"

For a second, her eyes flashed a little from hazel to almost brown. It must've only been the light above, I thought. But she had beautiful eyes, I noticed. Anyway, if there was an explanation I didn't expect, it was this.

"My dad. In the summers, we used to buy a couple of pounds of shrimp to steam and eat for dinner. He loved shrimp, and he was super fast. So if you wanted to eat, you had to keep up. It was a Darwinian thing."

I was surprised. No, not because I finally finished shelling the shrimp I have held since ages ago, but because she was sharing something to someone. I mean, I haven't really heard much about her dad from her, and I just knew that the very topic of him was very uncomfortable for her. I really couldn't blame her for keeping things to herself, because I knew what it felt. Though I still couldn't help being surprised, I also wanted to tell something about me to her. I didn't know whether it was a sense of obligation because I felt like I should tell her a thing in return of what she said to me. Or whether I just felt like it. But the latter is more probable since I've always been surprised by the way I's acting these days.

"In my house," I said. "it was the opposite. You did everything you could to keep from eating."

"Why?"

"After the divorce," I explained while trying to imitate the way she was shelling so fast. "my mom got into natural foods. Part of the whole cleanse your life, cleanse your body thing. Or something. No more hamburgers, no more hotdogs. It was lentil loaf and tofu salad, and that was a good day."

"My dad was the total opposite." She said. "He was a firm-believer in the all-meat diet. To him, chicken was a vegetable."

"I wish."

"Shrimp! I need shrimp!" Delia muttered from behind us. Macy scooped the pile to a plate while Delia hastily piled toothpicks, napkins, and cocktail sauce onto a platter.

"Those biscuits are going fast." Kristy said, entering the kitchen too less than a minute after Delia had. As usual, Kristy was in a flashy outfit. God forbid anyone to tolerate that little fact. "That crowd is all professor types, and they're so weird that way, ultra polite and really grabby at the same time. Like they say, 'Oh my, doesn't that look tasty,' and then clean out your whole tray."

"Two and move." Macy said.

"Don't I know it." Kristy said with a slight roll of her eyes. "It's just work, is all I'm saying."

Then there was the crash we've been all expecting. We all froze.

"Shit." Delia said. "I mean, shoot. No, actually, I mean shit. I really do."

Kristy opened the door a little bit to '_spy_' on the damage most probably done. "It wasn't anything of theirs." She informed us. "But a couple of wineglasses bit it on the carpet."

"Red or white?" Delia asked.

"Ummm..." Kristy replied. "Looks like red."

"Shit." Delia said again. "And Bert would pick today to have other plans."

Macy suddenly turned to me, asking the obvious question without a word. "Bert's a whiz with stains. He can get anything out of anything."

"Really," She said.

"Oh yeah." I said and finished shelling another shrimp. I picked out another to shell because I knew we would be running out of them anytime soon so there was no time to delay. "He's a legend."

"And how are you?" Delia asked, handing Macy a bottle of carpet cleaner and a rag.

"How am I what?" Macy asked back.

"At getting out stains."

"Um," Macy said, looking somewhat deep in thought. I wondered what was causing her to be wary all this time, but maybe it was just that she was not used to removing stains and all that. "I'm not – "

"Good!" Delia said, pushing Macy right through the door. "Go to it!" Macy stumbled a little bit, probably because of Delia's pushing force but went immediately to where Monica was.

"Whew." Delia said as she wiped tiny beads of sweat across her forehead. Kristy got the tray of shrimps Macy has prepared and went to serve them immediately by popular demand. Monica then returned to the room with the same expression on her face. Delia turned to look at her – okay, glare at her – but said nothing. It was as if she was lecturing Monica through her look only. Monica barely shrugged then rested on the counter before Delia showed her what to do next.

"Here." Monica held out her arms as Delia put a tray of goat cheese toasts. It was good that we still had those appetizers left, because the shrimps were getting off rather swiftly. And with my speed at shelling them, well, it probably would take an intolerable deal of time before we hand out a new tray. Monica just followed at her snail-like pace.

Finally, after a few minutes of finger-numbing shrimp shelling, I finished the task and went to help Delia while she laid out wine glasses on a tray. Suddenly there was a bang and we both turned to look at a somewhat pissed Kristy after she banged her empty tray on the counter.

"You are not going to believe," She said and I pictured out steam coming out of her ears. "what just went down out there."

"Did something else break or spill?" Delia asked and I noticed her stiffen up in panic. "God! What is going on today?"

"No," Kristy said, totally _not _cooling down even for a little bit. "Do you know who's out there?"

Delia turned to look at the door, still wary. "Monica?"

"No. Macy's jerkwad boyfriend's father. And do you know what he did out there? In front of God and everybody and me?"

I looked at Macy curiously then turned to Kristy.

"He said," Kristy said. "that his stupid asshole son put their relationship on hold because she wasn't in line with his goals."

I didn't care at anyone at all but Macy's ex-sort-of-boyfriend. Kristy's right, he was a jerk. Who did he think he was to think of that lowly of Macy? What, he thought Macy was just a waste of time, of space, or something? Was he blind? Or was he just that of a haughty asshole to not _know_ what Macy deserves. _And everyone thought he was a genius._ Snort.

"And then," Kristy continued. "he ate half my shrimp plate. He insults my friend – to her face! – and tries to go for shrimp. I wanted to sock him."

"But," Delia said carefully. "you didn't, right?"

"No," Kristy answered. "but I did cut him off. He's on crustacean restriction, from here on out. He tries another grab, he's getting a foot stomp."

"Oh don't do that." Delia warned. But I haven't heard much of the rest of the conversation as I was focused on Macy. The same way she was focused on the wall. I mean, she deserved so much more than _that._ If there was a way to treat such a girl as her, let alone any girl, then that was not it. She deserved glee and the rightful kind of affection from a man – or boy or whatever – and not disappointment. Sometime at there, I felt as if I wanted to show Jason what an asshole he was and what asshole should suffer.

The door swung open again and Monica let herself in. "Shrimp." She said and looked at still-fuming Kristy.

"I'm sure they do." She spat, putting cocktail sauce and some napkins on her tray. She also got the plate of shelled shrimp I prepared. So maybe she didn't get, she almost banged, clearly still hostile. "Bastards."

"Kristy." Delia said but she was already out the door, tray on shoulder level. Delia looked around rather distraughtly and sighed. She then picked up the tray of filled wineglasses and lifted it carefully with both hands. "Just to be on the safe side." She said and nudged the door with her toe.

"I'm going to make a pass around the room and keep an eye on her. Wes, grab that other tray of glasses. Monica get another trayful of toasts out here. And Macy..." She trailed off and looked at an upset Macy. "I'm sorry."

Macy looked as if she was tired of that word, and I couldn't blame her. Several years of _sorry _echoes, and now she was yet again at the receiving end of it. I wanted to tilt her chin up and tell her how awesome of a person she was, to tell her that she deserved much much greater than a snobbish jerkface and to tell her that she should feel happy that she got rid of an asshole.

Monica was already on her way outside with the tray of toasts. I finished pouring the wine onto the glasses and was now carefully lifting the tray up when I felt the urge to console Macy.

"Hey," I said and she looked as if she had known what I was going to say. "are you – "

"I'm fine." She said, looking tired of these games, if that's what you could call these. But I guess you could, because life was such a sucker for playing with everyone's minds. "It was nothing, just some stupid thing somebody said."

" – gonna be able to grab that tray?" I finished. She was right, I was going to ask that. But I had known what she was feeling right now. To be somehow stepped on and judged, but it was nothing. Because I deserved to be degraded for what I did, but she sure did not do anything.

"Yeah." She nodded at the tray. "Go ahead, I'm right behind you." Her voice was that of a certain fragility and there was, again, my need to placate her.

"All right." I said and looked at her. She looked as delicate as her voice sounded like, and it was as if she needed someone so bad to hold her right now. But I just shook the thoughts off, and opened the door. "I'll see you out there."

* * *

"Delia," Kristy said exasperatedly. "just go, would you please? Everything's fine."

My pensive aunt pressed one finger to her temple and seemed to let her mind wander farther away. "I'm forgetting something, I just know it. What is it?"

Her husband, Pete, said, "Is it that our dinner reservations were for ten minutes ago?"

"No," She spat. "It's something else. God, think, Delia. Think."

Kristy then yawned incredulously and glanced at her watch. It was late, I knew, and the cocktail party was already done. We were done packing up, and was almost ready to go. Then Delia had that epiphany.

"You know what I mean." Delia said. "When you just know you're forgetting something?"

"Are you sure it's not a pregnancy thing?" Kristy asked.

"Yes, I'm sure." Delia responded with a chilly glare.

"Honey," Pete drawled, putting a hand on his wife's arm. "our sitter is costing us ten bucks an hour. Can we please go to dinner? Please?"

"Fine." She declared, closing her eyes and shaking her head. With that, everyone was ready to go. "But then I'll remember in five minutes and it will be too late."

She was still muttering – probably about the unfortunate effects that was about to occur now that she didn't remember what she forgot, if that made sense – when she got into their car and maybe even after they pulled out of the driveway.

"When is that baby due?" Kristy asked as she and Monica pulled up beside us.

"July tenth." I answered.

"Which leaves us," She paused, doing the mental math for a while before eventually giving up. "entirely too long before she gets normal again."

"Three weeks." Macy said.

"Exactly." Kristy sighed. "Anyway, so listen. This party is in Lakeview. Take a right on Hillcrest, left on Willow, house at the end of the cul-de-sac. We'll see you guys there. Hey, and Macy?"

"Yeah?"

"I have it on good authority," She said softly, leaning farther out the window. "that there will be extraordinary boys out there. You know what I mean?"

"Um, no." Macy said, and I noticed a very very faint of pink appear on her cheeks.

"Don't worry." Kristy said and pointed at Macy. "By the end of the night, you will. See you there!" And then they were gone.

"Well," I said as we pulled out of the driveway. "to the party, then. Right?"

"Sure."

The silence that ensued five minutes into the drive was the least to say, uncomfortable. I think Macy was deep in thought, probably still wondering about the happening earlier this evening in the party. But I guess not, since the _tired_ look on her face was not there, at least not in that sense of the word.

"So," She began. But did not finish, because, well, of the engine.

The van started to cough after a short drive of humming properly. It coughed. And staggered. Then whimpered.

Then: Silence.

A bird suddenly flew by overhead, breaking the undeniable silence.

"So," I said, looking at the gas gauge. "that's what Delia forgot."

"What?" Macy asked.

"Gas." I said after pointing my finger at the gas gauge. Which indicated the letter E. As in, _Empty_.

"Gas." She repeated.

I opened my door and got out. I briefly heard Macy's door shut the same and then her footsteps. I was suddenly sure she was thinking along the same lines as I was, that we were in the middle of nowhere. Come on now, that was a given fact, considering the pasturelands on either side of us, and the obvious lack of households or cars.

"How far," She said. "would you say it is to the nearest gas station?"

I looked around, trying to contemplate if I'd ever been here before. The answer was a _hell no. _Sure, sometimes, I passed by this road, but with some other friends and no letter E shouting at my face. "No idea," I sighed. "Guess we'll find out though."

We pushed the van to the side of the road, which was somewhat useless seeing the lack of vehicles passing here. Nevertheless, it was necessary. We rolled up the windows and locked it. Everything was quiet, and the adage was right. Silence was so freaking loud.

I did a last check for the engine, which told me that there was absolutely no other option but to leave the van there. Then, I walked over to where Macy was standing.

"Okay," I said. "Now we decide. Left or right?"

"Left." She said and we started walking.

"Green beans." I muttered the first thing that came to my mind.

"Spaghetti." Macy, surprisingly, replied.

"Ice cream." I said after a moment of contemplation.

"Manicotti." She said, almost automatically.

"What's with all the _I _words?" I said and looked up to the nightsky. It really was dark, and the only light was from the moon. Come to think of it, it was even frightening, hearing nothing but our footsteps. "God."

"I told you." She said. "I've played this game before."

Then I thought over all the things I've eaten in the several years of my existence, and which ones started with _I._ Unfortunately, after almost 20 minutes, I've gotten nothing. And even more unfortunately, still no car was in sight. Macy tried calling Kristy, but it seemed she was busy looking for extraordinary boys, Bert wasn't home, and as she told me, her mother was in a meeting. After a rather awkward silence, I suggested we played a game. And most unfortunately, all the games she suggested, I pretty much never heard of. And due to _our _– basically, her – decision of playing First Letter, Last Letter, she let me chose the category. In which I easily blurted out Food, as it was the only thing I was good at. Still, I was struggling. Sigh, even though it was not good to admit, it literally hurt my ego to lose to a girl. But since it was Macy, it wasn't surprising.

"Instant Breakfast." I declared after a few hundred hours.

"That's not food." She pointed out.

"Sure it is." I insisted.

"Nope. It's a drink."

"Are you seriously getting competitive about this?"

"No," She said, even though I was sure she was. "But it is a drink, not a food. That's all I'm saying."

"You're a rule person." I noted.

"My sister was a cheater. It sort of became necessary."

"She cheated at this game?" I asked. How was that possible?

"She cheated at _everything._" I said. "When we played Monopoly, she always insisted on being banker, then helped herself to multiple loans and 'service fees' for every real estate transaction. I was, like, ten or eleven before I played at someone else's house and they told me you couldn't do that."

I laughed, and I saw her smile at the memory. Her smile was beautiful, not model-esque and not in the actual sense of the word, but more of a natural thing. Her whole face lit up when she smiled, and I couldn't help smiling back. Also, it was good to know that she got rid of the nasty thoughts of her and Jason's sort of relationship, and relaxed for a while.

"During staring contests," She continued. "she always blinked. _Always. _But then she'd swear up and down she hadn't and make you go again, and again. And when we played Truth, she lied. Blatantly."

It was also somewhat nice to have her share something. She rarely talks to anyone, and everytime she does, she always seem somewhat guarded. So I guess it was that that led me smiling again.

"Truth?" I asked suddenly, as that word in her story caught my attention. "What's that?"

Okay, so I felt ashamed that I didn't get what she was saying yet again. "You never played Truth either?" She asked and I subtly shook my head. "God, what did you guys do on long car trips?"

"We," I said. "discussed politics and current events and engaged in scintillating discourse."

"Oh." She seemed to believe what I was saying.

"I'm kidding." I said and smiled. "We usually read comic books and beat the crap out of each other until our dad threatened to pull over and 'settle things once and for all'. Then, when it was just my mom, we sang folk songs."

It felt good to share my own stories, really. I was not usually one to just bring the air of nostalgia around, but it was really nice to reminisce sometimes.

"You sang folk songs." Macy repeated.

"I didn't have a choice. It was like the lentil loaf, no other options." I sighed. "I know the entire Woody Guthrie catalog."

"Sing something for me." She said, nudging me with her elbow. "You know you want to."

Well, I wanted to, but I couldn't. Telling her childhood stories was one thing, but singing was another. It would just be so... embarrassing.

"No." I said flatly.

"Come on. I bet you have a lovely singing voice."

"I don't."

"Wes." She said and looked seriously at me.

"Macy." I said, in the same serious tone. "No."

We walked another distance in silence. Somewhere far, we saw headlights, but then it turned in another direction, which left our hopes in vain. I shook my head.

"Okay, so Truth." I said after a moment. "How do you play?"

"Is this because you can't think of another _I _food?" She teased.

"No." I quickly said, then sighed, knowing she was right. "Maybe. How do you play?"

"We can't play Truth." She said. Finally, a fence began on one side of the road as we crested a small hill.

"Why not?"

"Because it can get really ugly."

"How so?"

"It just can. You have to tell the truth even if you don't want to."

"I can handle that." I said.

"You can't even think of an _I _food." She pointed out.

"Can you?" I challenged.

"Ice milk." She said. "Italian sausage."

So she was right again. "Okay, fine. Point proved. Now tell me how to play."

"All right." She breathed. "But you asked for it."

I turned to look at her and saw she was really almost serious.

"In Truth," She started. "there are no rules other than to tell the truth."

"How do you win?" I asked.

"That," She paused. "is such a boy question."

"What, girls don't like to win?" I teased then snorted. "Please. You're the one who got all rule driven on me claiming Instant Breakfast isn't a food."

"It's not." She said. "It's a beverage."

I rolled my eyes. But still somehow felt the desire to smile. I didn't know what was that about this moment – this unfortunate moment, in fact, that we were stuck here – that made me more optimistic than usual. Hey, at least, I could talk freely to Macy now.

"Okay," I said. "back to Truth. You were saying?"

"To win, a person has to refuse to answer a question." She said. "So, for example, let's say I ask you a question and you don't answer it. Then you get to ask me a question and if I answer it, I win."

"But that's too simple." I said. "What if I ask you something easy?"

"You wouldn't." She told me with a look as if telling me that it was too obvious. "It has to be a really hard question, because you don't want me to win."

"Ah." I nodded. "Man, this is diabolical."

"It's a girl's game." She said as she tipped her head up to look at the stars, I guess. "Always good for a little drama at a slumber party. I told you, you don't want to play."

"No. I do." I squared my shoulders. "I can handle it."

"You think?"

"Yup. Hit me."

She seemed to think for a second as she gazed at the moonlight. And I gazed at her doing so. Then she took a breath.

* * *

**_This chappie's kinda exciting, LOL. Because they're on Truth now. Anyways, I feel like this isn't up to my standards at all, because his thoughts weren't pretty much that explained. Sigh. But I just hope you liked it and please read and review, just like what this AWESOME people have done:_**

**_tWiLiGhTeR94: Now it is up! LOL. Thanks so much for sharing your thoughts on my story._**

**_randomrayyxx3: I hope you really like Wes's take on this chapter. Since it's your fave and all. Thanks for reviewing from the very beginning!_**

**_InTheRain13: I loved her backstory too. Anyways, there isn't much of that in this chapter but I still do hope you enjoyed this._**

**_nolechic512: Caroline is a really quirky character. In fact, I really loved her outgoing attitude. I hoped you liked this chapter._**

**_britttt_: _Yeah, thanks for noticing that. In some other way, I feel like this is not me speaking. I mean, Wes and I are totally different persons and he is speaking for his own. Plus that fact that he's hot and I'm so not. LOL_**

**_shadowfox908: Really? I'm one of your favorite people? That's so coooooool! Thanks. Just so you know, though, there is also another fic on Wes's PoV but I don't think the author's been updating that for too long. Anyway, I think, nevertheless, that that one's still better than mine. Because this is totally just the crap of my imagination. Anyways, I hoped you like my story. Continue reading!_**

**_BlondieVamp7: Oh. There's none of Becky in this one. And lots of Wes-Macy action. LOL. Thanks for reviewing!_**

**_Teddy Bear 8p: One serving of Truth coming right up! LOL. Here it is, finally._**

**_Sheli: Okay, just tell me when you need inspiration. I'd treat you to the World of Waffles. Yaaaayy! Anyways, I'm so elated that you took time mentioning me in your story. I just want to let you know I'm really thankful that people, especially nice ones like you, really supports me even only in cyberspace. You know you're important me. Asking why? It's because you reviewers are the ones that bring me inspiration on a silver plate, for one. Thanks really! Btw, when's your next update?_**

**_komi_: _He does not sound hot. He IS hot. LOL. Thanks for the review!_**

**_happyasusual4: Thanks! I really don't know how those parts not mentioned in the book come to my mind, such as Becky's backstory, but I think it's pretty much obvious if you read the book. Technically, I just make the obvious even more so. LOL. Thanks again for reviewing. I'm glad you love my story._**

**_Wess_: _If it's nice to read in his PoV, then it's so great to also write it! Like, really! Whew, thanks for the review. And love the anonymous name._**

**_iPunk:_ _Thanks for the review! You can't imagine how it feels to know your o-pen-yon! (Love the spelling, btw!) And I've read that in wikipedia, you're right. There are many links to other books. Anyway, I sincerely hope you'll read on!_**

**_TwilightLuvr104: Thanks for the review! Watch out for the next update!_**

**_To everyone, thanks for reviewing with a lovely cherry on top. And I'm sorry once again for taking so long to update. I wish that this chapter's worth the wait. I LOVE YOU ALL!_**

**_To everyone who has not yet reviewed, will you please do? For me? Please? Aw. Just one lil click. Please?_**


	10. Chapter 10

**_A/N: Finally... an update. I'm really sorry for not updating soon, I was supposed to update on June 15, but due to, well, the start of school (yeah, june's start of the semester here in our country), I wasn't able to. So, I'm really really really sorry. But to make up for it, here's a supersized update. A super supersized update. The longest chapter yet in my history of posting. LOL. Which includes supersized mistakes. So, if you spot some, please don't forget to point them out. Thanks!_**

**_And review replies are in the bottom, just like always._**

**_Anyway, I hope you like this because it's my favorite chapter yet._**

* * *

Chapter 10

"Okay." She breathed after a few seconds. And even though it hurt my ego to admit that I was getting nervous because of the question she might ask me, it was still true. I took a deep breath just right before she spoke. "What's your favourite color?"

That's her question? The question I was supposed to answer? The question that was supposed to make me think hard? Seriously? I didn't know whether to laugh – and trust me, it's hard not to – or tease her about it. But then the latter seemed better.

I made sure to look pointedly at Macy. "Don't coddle." I said. "It's insulting."

"I'm trying to ease you in." She said. And yes, my teasing about her question worked.

"Don't ease. Ask something real." I said, half-mocking, half-serious.

"Okay." She said, and looked as if she had an instant question in mind. Apparently, she had. "Why'd you get sent to Myers School?"

And then the teasing was gone. I wasn't really used to people asking me this, nor me talking about it publicly. Then I decided, after all, this was Macy. I knew just from a look that I could trust her, I just didn't really know why. I shrugged mentally and looked at the person I was about to confide in. She looked guilty, as if she was wanted for an iniquitous doing. But really, it wasn't a big deal for me. Although it once had been.

"I broke into a house. With a couple of guys I used to hang out with. We didn't take anything, just drank a couple of beers, but a neighbour saw us and called the cops. We ran but they caught us." I said after a second.

"Why'd you do that?"

"What, run?" I was confused for a second, immediately searching for all answers that could be spoken.

"No," She said. "Break in."

I shrugged. "I don't know. These guys I was friends with, they'd done it a couple of times, but I never had before. I was there, so I went along. It was my first offense, my only offense, but the county was on this whole thing where they were punishing right off, to scare you out of doing more, so I got sent away. Six months, let out after four."

"My boyfriend," She said then corrected, "sort-of boyfriend," And I remembered her and Kristy's conversation in the clearing before. And I remembered that jerkface. "used to tutor there."

"Really." I replied, although I was already wracking my memory to at least recall someone who tutored there and already looked like an asshole from far off.

"Yup." She nodded.

"So what's the deal with that," I asked. "The boyfriend."

Even though I already heard about it in the clearing, I couldn't help the urge to ask her that. I didn't know what I was hoping for, a little bit more knowing about that thing, or simply Macy herself talking about it? Maybe I was hoping for both.

"What?" She asked back.

"I get to ask a question now. That's how the game goes, correct?"

"Um, yes. I guess." She said and looked deep in thought. I let her think though while looking ahead to see at least a sign of a passing car. Nope, not a headlight in sight.

"I'm waiting." I deadpanned. "Does this mean you pass?"

"No," She quickly came to defense. "I mean, no. I'm answering. I'm just collecting my response."

So I gave her another few seconds. She looked like she was still hesitating to open up, and I really couldn't blame her – or anyone per se – for that. But I was getting bored. I mean, really bored. (Which was not usual for me. Arrogance aside, I knew myself I was kind of a patient person. But not now.)

"Is there a time limit for this?" I wondered loudly. And she shot me a look. "Just wondering."

"Fine." She snapped and started explaining. "We've been dating for about a year and a half. And he's just, you know, a genius. Really smart, and driven. He went away for the summer, and I was just, you know, being a little clingy or something I guess, and it sort of freaked him out. He's very independent."

"Define clingy."

"You don't know what clingy is?"

"I know what it means to me. But it's different for different people." I said.

"Well," She said. "First, he was upset I wasn't taking my job, which had been his job, more seriously. And then, I said I loved him in an email, and that made him a little skittish."

"Skittish?" I asked, surprised how she knew so many big words. I mean, SAT words. And she always made it look like she wasn't smart, maybe that's what her jerk of a boyfriend did to her. And he was called a genius. Damn genius.

"Do you need a definition of that too?" She said, looking all narked.

"Nope. Know it." I said, tipping my head back, glimpsing across the moon and the night. "So things went sour because you said those three words, and you weren't as serious about the library as he wanted you to be."

"Right." She said and nodded ever so slightly. Then she stopped walking and I was sure she noticed my little slipup the very second I did. I cautiously bit my lip. "Wait. I never said anything about the library."

"Yeah, you did." I said, feigning innocence. "You – "

"Nope." She was smart. Hands down. "I didn't."

And we just stood there, all quiet and from what I could see, mulling things over.

"Kristy." She breathed, finally.

"Not exactly." I explained. There was no use leaving facts out now. "I just heard you guys talking that night, out at the clearing."

She took a little step first and soon we were moving forward again. "Well, now you've heard it twice. Although I think you should be penalized in some way, because you asked a question you already knew the answer to, and that is totally against the rules."

"I thought the only rule was you had to tell the truth."

"Okay, so there are two rules." She frowned, and I somehow knew that she would be using her being the one to introduce the game to her advantage. Meaning, bending the rules to the game because after all, she was the one who brought it in.

I snorted. "Next you'll tell me there are service charges too."

"What is your problem?"

See that's my almost-problem. Okay, so _puzzle_ would be a better word for it. Before, Macy and I were barely speaking. Not at all. And now that we were, we already, like, engaged in a few arguments. It wasn't that I expected our talking to be like this, seeing her as a perfect girl. But in a rather odd way, I found it quite nice for us to be at ease with each other.

"All I'm saying," I shrugged. "is that I vote that the second one be done away with."

"You don't get to vote." She said. "This is an established game."

"Clearly it isn't. You seem to be making up rules as you go."

"I am not." She insisted, and I didn't know any other person more tenacious as her, let alone _as _stubborn. But despite that, I wasn't going to believe her. I refused my urge to snort again and just listened to what she was about to say to keep things okay, once and for all. "Fine. If you're proposing a rule change, you have to at least present a case for it.

"That is so student council." I chuckled and I could've sworn I saw a little glare from her.

"I'm waiting." She said.

"You should be allowed to occasionally ask a question you know the answer to," I said. "so that you can be sure the other person is telling the truth."

And then we both saw it: headlights, in the distance. Then it came closer, and just disappeared. I didn't know which way it went.

So I just sighed and thought back about the case I was expounding. It made absolute perfect sense to me, to once in a while check the other person's honesty but I saw Macy wasn't one to persuade easily. So I just shook my head and decided to let it go.

"Okay, forget it. I drop my case." I said. "We tell the truth, or else. Okay?"

"Fine with me." She nodded.

"Go ahead then," I said. "it's your turn."

"Okay, fair's fair. What was the story with your last girlfriend?"

"My last girlfriend," I said, a little confused. Oh, so maybe she didn't know I had one right now. Okay, so clearly she didn't. "Or the girlfriend I have now?"

"The current girlfriend." She said without any thoughts. Maybe she knew after all. "What's the story there?"

"Well," I said. "To begin with, she's incarcerated."

Suddenly, my earlier worries came back. I still hadn't figured out how to help Becky.

"You're dating a prisoner?"

"Rehab." I said. "I met her at Myers. She was in for shoplifting, but since then she got busted with some pot, so now she's at Evergreen Care Center. At least until her dad's insurance runs out."

"What's her name?"

"Becky." And I sighed inwardly, just recalling everything _we_ had been going through right now.

"So it's serious."

I shrugged, deciding to keep it cool. "She's been in and out of trouble last year, so we've hardly gotten to see each other." And during those hard times that when we see each other does she push me away. "She says she hates for me to see her at Evergreen, so we're sort of waiting until she gets out to see what happens."

"And when's that?" She asked.

"End of the summer." My foot kicked a rock, and I hadn't even known it subconsciously at least until I sent it skittering on the pavement. "Until then, everything's just sort of on hold."

"That's me too." She said. "We're supposed to get together in August, when we'll know better whether we want the same things, or if it's best to make this break permanent."

"That sounds verbatim." I said.

"It is. Right off the email he sent me." She sighed.

"Ouch."

"I know."

"Okay," I said, a little too cheery, I guess. "my turn."

"Okay, shoot."

"Why'd you really stop running?" I asked.

I noticed her take a deep breath and we fell into a silence that clearly said I went beyond. I wasn't sure what I was supposed to do. Tell her not to answer that question but a different one instead? Or just wait – and hope – for her to answer it? After all, the game's name was Truth so, knowing her to a modest extent, she would probably follow the rules. I was still contemplating what's better, but then she began speaking already.

"The morning my dad died, he came to my room to wake me up for a run, and I was sleepy and lazy, so I waved him off and told him to go without me." She said, without a single intake of breath, without a solitary glance at me, without a perusal at anything but the road ahead. This time, I felt a flip in the pit of my stomach, either because of the shared fact, or because of the guilt in me that said she was only forced to say this to answer my question.

"A few minutes later, though, I changed my mind." She swallowed rather audibly before going on. I was sure she was – one way or another – only constraining herself to do this. And I couldn't help but wonder how she looked so hesitant yet she didn't stop retelling. "So I got up and went to catch up with him. I knew the route he'd take, it was the same one we always did. Out our neighbourhood, a right on Willow, then another right onto McKinley.

"I was little less than halfway into that first mile when I came over this ridge and saw him. He was lying on the sidewalk."

I couldn't help glancing at her, ultimately fighting myself back from comforting her. Because I even knew it wasn't right, having only known each other a little time, and it would seem really awkward. Still though, I felt a connection I never felt before with anyone. And somehow, I felt this thing that I wanted to cry for her. I really did want to. That, or try to console her.

"At first," She said. "it didn't even compute, you know? I mean, my mind couldn't put it together, even though it was right in front of my face."

She was speaking as if this was her last chance to do so. But I wanted it. Admittedly being selfish, I wanted to hear all about it. All about her. Not because of our – hopefully – friendship, not even because of anything. I just had this rather odd impulse in me to hear her confess loudly. Louder than she was only doing. I didn't know why, but my senses seemed sharper at the moment.

"I started running faster. I mean, faster than I ever had. It was adrenaline, I guess. I'd never run that fast in my life. Never.

"There was this man." She went on. "He was just some random guy who'd been on his way to the store, and he'd stopped and was trying to give my dad CPR. But by the time I got to him, he'd already given up. The ambulance came, and we went to the hospital. But it was too late."

"Don't." She warned ahead, just as I mentioned her name to tell her I'm sorry. Of course, it had been an initial reaction for me to say that, but gauging her response, it wasn't the best thing for her to hear right now. Again, there was this thing in me that always, always wanted to know her better and see her let go herself.

Suddenly, _finally_, headlights squinted into view. I covered my eyes with my hand, waiting for the rumbling car to slow and pull up beside us.

"Hey." A deep voice came from behind the wheel, where an old man with white hair was. "You kids need a ride someplace? What you doing out here?"

"Ran out of gas." I answered. "Where's the nearest station?"

He pointed his thumb at the opposite direction. "About three miles that way. Where'd you break down?"

_Sweet irony, _I thought. But, had not we gone this way, I wouldn't have known more about Macy.

"About two miles that way." I said.

"Well, get in, then." The old man said, already reaching to unlock the door. "I'll run you up there. You about scared me to death, though, walking out here in the dark. Thought you were deer or something."

I opened the door and let Macy in before sliding beside her. The car was comforting, to say the least, and it had a somewhat homey ambience. Still, though, there was something that was bothering me. And bothering me really bad.

It was as if I either felt like I was an intruder now, an intruder to Macy's life, because of this new fact I have known or like I had a different knowing of her now. I knew it, I knew the real reason why she stopped running. And it's because she was blaming herself, blaming _it _for her father's death. Just like I blamed my going to Myers for what happened to my mom.

Strange, it was, to have this some form of known tie with Macy now. It was surreal, knowing there were so many things in common between us. What made it even more was the fact that one second we had barely been talking and in the next we're finding out more than _I _expected to.

"That you?" The man asked us as we passed the Wish van.

"Yes, sir." I said.

"Well, you had no way to know, I guess." He said. A few moments later, we crested a hill and turned a corner, and as he said earlier, there it was. The gas station. "Had no idea how close you were."

"No," I mumbled. "I guess we didn't."

I pushed open the door as soon as we stopped and got out, before walking around the trunk to grab the gas can the man luckily had. He walked inside, most likely to buy cigarettes, and I pumped the gas. All the way, feeling her eyes bore into my back.

I wasn't sure whether to continue what I was saying before and say I'm sorry. Or maybe to keep it unsaid and just comfort her, but that'd look rather strange – even silly – as we were here in a gas station and I did that out of the blue. Option 3... well, there was no option 3.

Still ,though, I gestured for Macy to roll down the window just to see if she was okay. I would not ask her directly, knowing it would be what she was expecting – or even hearing – all along those years. That's the only thing I knew.

Until Option 3 flashed in my mind.

"Hey." I said as she did open the window.

"Hey." She said back, with the same flat tone she used while answering my previous question.

"I thought of one." I said.

"What?" She asked, and I didn't know whether she was asking what I thought of or whether she just didn't get it at all.

"Iceberg lettuce." I paused, then decided to keep everything we've talked about a while ago closed up, at least for now. "And don't say it's not a food because it is. I'm willing to fight you on it."

"No fight." She smiled. This time, a sincere smile. "It's a keeper."

The pump jolted to a stop and I hung back the hose.

"Need anything?" I asked and when she shook her head, I went inside to buy a bottle of water. Before I strode off though, I heard the buzzing of her phone and sensed her answering it, of course. It was probably Kristy, telling God-knows-what.

What more to say though, - this may sound totally arrogant or something, but definitely still true – was that I couldn't care less.

That night, I lied awake in my bed, repeating in my head over and over the game Macy and I played. After we got gas and the man – who was named Bert, coincidentally – dropped us at the Wish van, I drove Macy to her house because apparently the party was a bore and as Kristy told Macy who told me, "there were no extraordinary guys" there. Then I headed straight to our house, where Bert – my brother – was already fast asleep. Luckily, I had my key in my pocket.

So now here I was, pondering about it. I had seen her face, and I was sure it was really hard for her to get over _it, _but I wasn't sure if she already was. Over it, I mean. And if she was still carrying the guilt on her shoulders, just like I was, now and then. Somewhere between replaying constant Truth questions and my own memories, I fell asleep.

"_I said I'm okay!" My mom snapped at me._

_It was a summer evening, and I just got home from hanging out with the guys. I was about to head straight to my room, and ponder about some things my friends said, but then I saw mom curled up into a ball in the foyer, on the floor. I quickly came to her and asked her if she was okay, because it was really clear she was in pain. She said she was, even though I knew she wasn't, and I told her to get up there and I'll take her to the doctor. That's when she snapped._

"_Mom," I said indignantly. "We have to make sure everything's alright. You know Bert and I would be worried sick about you..."_

"_That's exactly my point!" She yelled again. "I said I'm okay and if you don't stop acting like I'm dying or something – "_

"_Mom, you know that's not what I meant. I'm just saying that we are concerned about you and that we should at least contact a doctor or something."_

"_How many stupid times do I have to keep saying I'm fine?" She said, standing up now. I didn't know what was the big deal, it was simple, right? Take her to the doctors just to make sure, then everything will be okay. I wasn't sure why she was so worked up about it._

"_Mom..." I insisted again._

"_Will you just... stop it, okay? Stop it, stop it, stop it. Everything's okay and why don't you just... keep cool? When I say I'm fine, I really mean it. See, I'm all okay and healthy and fine. That was nothing. I was just having headache, is all."_

"_If you say so..." I said and hesitated at first before heading to my room. I tried thinking about my last almost-argument my mom and I had, and the worries returned back to me. I lied on my bed, staring at the ceiling, arms crossed at the back of my head. I wasn't sure what lines I was going along when I suddenly came to my feet and decided to join the guys, for once, just to keep this bothering off my mind for a little while._

_I got up my bed and went out, with no interactions from Bert nor mom. She was probably at her bed, resting or baking something in the kitchen, or doing again household chores. And I was jolted back to why I was doing this._

"_Hey." I called out to Brad._

"_Uh hey. What you doing here?" He asked warily back._

"_I'm going with you guys."_

"_Good." He said. "I'm not even sure what you're making of this anyway. It's not like it's a big deal."_

_I wasn't sure whether it was or not, but I had a bad feeling about it before. So I just shrugged now, and went to go for reckless things once and for all. "Guess I realized that just now." I said._

"_So... Marshall isn't here but I am." Matt then said._

"_So what? You're like his second place? Like a substitute?" Brad snorted. I just kept my silence._

"_What kind of asshole says that? Uck, I'd been sticking up with you, you know, even covering up for you and my brother all this time and that's what you say to me?"_

"_Let's make it clear. I don't owe you." Brad said. "You and your brother Marshall – and all my other peers per se – are not here because I forced all of you to. Wanna hang out, then come hang out. Don't want to, fine."_

"_Guys, guys." I called out, then. "Can we just get this over with?"_

"_Already want it over?" Matt asked. "Party's not even started."_

"_Get it started, then." Brad said, handing out beer bottle for beer bottle._

_That's how the night started. And soon I found myself running out of the house we've entered – for the first time had I joined them in doing it – several beers later. Now, running out to outrun the police running after us. I was a hundred percent sure we hadn't messed up anything, nor had we stolen, but then I heard a little girl from the next house shriek – probably hearing our songs and constant arguing – and tattletale to her mom what we're doing in the house._

_The police caught us, unfortunately, but at the moment, I couldn't care less. I was in some way thinking along the lines of : Props for the owner, it was a quite large house. Great interiors, too._

I woke up from my slumber full of meaningful dreams, but the last one had gotten stuck in me. The whole retelling of my reason to go to Myers. I mean, it wasn't like everything was exactly right, I knew some parts were missing but it was almost exact. It probably resonated in my dream again because the thing had been opened up, but I wasn't exactly sure how I felt.

In the dream, the feelings were really alive. The worry that surprised me when I saw my mom on the floor, the adrenaline rush during the little escapade, the fuzzy wistfulness when my family's disappointment dawned on me at the police station. Everything was so... real.

Macy and I were friends now.

I already found out we both lost a parent, and we were both on a break this summer. The thing was, even though I pretty much knew now that there was something behind that perfect mask of her – which I'm not judging her for – I still wanted her to let go a little bit more. I mean, sure, I had known her flaws and I had known she wanted to be perfect, but the real question was _why._

On the upper side of the story, we were closer now and believe me, was I surprised. I never really talked with anyone as much as I did her, and what's even more surprising was that it was _Macy_. Macy who I hadn't even known for a long time. But just like I said before, there was this so-called trust impulse.

"Okay. What's that about?" I asked her one night at a party in Arbors, where we sat at the back deck rail. Kristy, Bert and Monica were playing quarters inside, on a table now filled with beer bottles. I gazed curiously at the girls in front of us, who were staring at her, and Macy turned to look at them, too.

"Well," She said after taking a sip of her beer. "I think they're just surprised to see me here."

"Really." I said, slightly raising my eyebrow. She nodded and I couldn't help wondering why.

Ever since that night we were really comfortable with each other that we often only hang out alone. Which is pretty much often since every party we cater to, Kristy and the others were – what's the term, boyhunting? Or with Bert, girlhunting, I guess.

"And they're surprised to see you here because..." I said after nodding at a friend of Jake's.

"Because..." She explained with a bit of frustration. "they think I'm Miss Perfect."

"You?" I teased, rather loudly that she shot me another little glare of hers. (And I had to admit, it looked pretty adorable on her so I was often teasing her now.) "I mean, ah, I see."

"Shut up." She warned.

"No, seriously, this is interesting." I said. I caught sight of the three girls now disappearing in the sea of people. "Perfect as in..."

"Goody-goody." She said, then added, "by association. Jason would never be here."

"No?" I asked, even though before she even told so, I knew her snob of a boyfriend would not go here. Of course not.

"God, no."

"Let's say Jason was here." I said now, immediately making Macy break her gaze from whomever she was observing at the moment and distracting her from her – what it looks like – deep thoughts. "What would he be doing?"

She thought for a second. "Probably complaining about the smoke," She said. "and getting very concerned about whether all these cans are going to be properly recycled. What about Becky?"

I, rather unconsciously, ran hand through my hair, thinking well. "Passed out someplace. Or behind the bushes sneaking a smoke that she'd deny to me later."

"Ah." She deadpanned.

"Ah."

"Hi." A nauseatingly fake sweet voice entered the picture. Turns out it belonged to a girl clad in a tight black dress that was passing us now. I nodded at her but paid no attention. Up to now, as egotistical as this might sound, it was a big frustration to me as to why many people do _that._ I think it's somehow rude, you know, ogling and all that.

"Honestly." Macy said, breaking my reverie.

"What?" I asked.

"Come on. You have to admit it's sort of ridiculous."

"What is?"

"You know," She looked kind of flushed now. "the sa-woon."

"The what?" I didn't know if I heard it right, or whether 'sa-woon' was a real word.

"Wes, come on," She said. "Are you seriously not aware of how girls stare at you?"

I rolled my eyes. "Let's get back to the idea of you being perfect."

"Seriously, what it's like?" She fed the question back to me.

"Being perfect? I wouldn't know."

"Not being perfect." She sighed. "Being..."

I felt little crawling legs on my right arm and flicked off the bug – confirmed – rolling on it.

"...gorgeous." She finished. Then she took another sip of the beer she was holding.

"Again," I said indignantly as we both noticed the same three girls from before pass by us again. "I wouldn't know. You tell me."

"Donneven." She said in a Monica imitation and I couldn't help laughing. "We're not talking about me."

"We could be." I said.

"I'm not gorgeous." She said back. I wasn't sure if the girl was plain blind or what.

"Sure you are." I said. Before, this would be hard for me to say out loud. And I remembered the first night I saw her and thought of her as a perfect beautiful rich kid I wasn't going to see again. Now, it hadn't changed a bit, except for the perfect part and the part where I was never going to see her.

She shook her head, as if saying she wouldn't believe me because I was only distracting her. I must admit that I was, but I should also say I was serious when I said she was surely gorgeous.

"You," She pointed out. "have this whole tall, dark stranger thing going on. Not to mention the tortured artist bit."

"Bit?" I teased.

"You know what I mean."

I shook my head, knowing she was only buttering me up because she thought I was doing so. "And you," I said. "have that whole blonde, cool and collected, perfect smart girl thing going on."

"You're the boy all the girls want to rebel with." She said.

"You," I replied back, clearly insisting I wasn't going to give in and wanting to tell her this also. "are the unattainable girl in homeroom who never gives a guy the time of day."

"I'm not perfect." She said bluntly. "Not even close."

"I'm not tortured." I teased. "Unless you count this conversation."

"Okay." She picked her beer up again. "What do you wanna talk about?"

"How about," I suggested. "that we've got an ongoing game of Truth to get back to?"

"How about," She echoed. "not. I can't handle Truth tonight."

"You're only saying that because it's my turn."

"It isn't. It's mine."

"It's – "

She cut me off. "I asked you about Myers school, then you asked me about Jason. I countered with a question about Becky, and you asked me about running. Two rounds, my turn."

"See," I teased. "this is why I don't hang out with smart girls." I psyched myself up, eliciting a rolling of eyes from Macy, then said. "Okay, go ahead. I'm ready."

"All right." She said, tucking her hair behind her ear. "What's it like to always have girls swooning over you?"

"Macy." I said with authority and looked at her.

"You're the one who wanted to play." Clearly, this was National Torture Wes Baker Day.

I thought for a minute about getting this over and done with, like without her noticing me lying by omission and half-truths. "I don't know." I said. "It's not something I notice, if it's even happening."

"The name of the game," She pointed out and I was busted. "is Truth."

I sighed in frustration and looked at her. "Fine. It's weird. I mean, it's not like it counts or anything. They don't know me by looking, nobody does. It's totally surface. It's not real."

"Tell that to her." She said, nodding at a girl in the corner who had on a fake smile – I was sure just from its look. I knew those smiles like the back of my hand.

"Funny." I muttered. "Is it my turn yet?"

"No, I have a follow-up question."

"Is that legal?" I asked although I knew she was taking making this stuff up.

"Yes." She stated. "Okay, so if that's not real, what is? What counts, to you?"

I pondered a while. "I don't know. Just because someone's pretty doesn't mean she's decent. Or vice versa. I'm not into appearances. I like flaws, I think they make things interesting."

Macy looked like she was processing this thought. Truth be told, no one knew about that epiphany of mine, but not because I hadn't wanted to tell them. But because they hadn't gone up to ask me about it.

"You know," She said finally. "saying stuff like that would make girls even crazier for you. Now you're cute _and _somewhat more attainable. If you were appealing before, now you're off the charts."

"I don't wanna be off the charts." Which was true. I rolled my eyes. "I do, however, want to be off this subject."

"Fine." She resigned. Finally. I already gave it the benefit of doubt that it wasn't going to happen but finally she let go the topic. "Go ahead, it's your turn."

"Why is being perfect so important to you?"

"It's not." She said.

"What's this game called again?" I narrowed my eyes.

"That's the truth." She said. "I don't care that much about being perfect.

Which was the total opposite of what it appears to be. "Seems like you do."

"How do you figure?"

I shrugged. First off, "Everytime you've mentioned your boyfriend, you've said he was."_ Second, you always deny that you're gorgeous –or anything like that, of course – because you somehow think it's not enough to be perfect._ But, I hadn't said that.

"Well, he is." She said. "But I'm not. That was part of the problem."

"Macy, come on." This was getting hard. I mean, her putting herself always under _him._ It wasn't only hard, but bugging as to how low her self-esteem was. It was as if – no, it was obvious that – she couldn't see how she really was. "I mean, what's perfect, anyway?"

She shook her head. "It's not about being perfect, really. It's about... I don't know. Being in control."

"Explain." I said, while she sighed.

"I don't know if I can." She said. "When my dad died, it was like everything felt really shaky, you know? And trying to be the best I could be, it gave me something to focus on. If I could just do everything right, then I was safe."

Again, I wanted to reach out to her.

"That sucks, though." I settled for saying. "You're just setting yourself up to fail, because you'll never get anything perfect."

"Says who?"

I made it sure to look at her. "The world." I said, gesturing all around us. "The universe. There's just no way. And why would you want everything to be perfect, anyway?"

"I don't want everything to be perfect." She said, even though I could see it was the total opposite of what she wanted. "I just want – "

"Curfew." A dull voice, undoubtedly Monica, said. I turned to look at her as Macy did. She pointed to her watch, then to the kitchen, where Kristy and Bert were waiting.

"Saved by the bell." I said as I jumped down the rail. I felt her followed suit and we headed to where we were supposed to.

Just like everything she thought in this world would. Like, if she just tried, she could make everything perfect. But, I still did think, they wouldn't. Because it was just meant to be that way. Flaws were meant to exist. Mistakes were meant to be made. And there's just no way around to it. But it's okay.

* * *

**_A/N: People... Happy independence day! (To those who live in the US, I mean.)_**

_**A question to everyone... who's the main character that you can relate the most in Dessen's novels? For me...hmmm. It's Macy here or Auden from Along for the Ride.**_

**_And thanks to these super-awesome persons who took time to review:_**

_**nolechic512, komi, Ang, Lauren-1995, InTheRain13, BlondieVamp7, twigirl36, TeddyBear 8p, happyasusual4, cindy, ironicawerewolf, taybaybay, AudreyVicious, writing in the rain: ****Thanks for the reviews! Finally here's the update you've been waiting for. I hope I won't disappoint.**_

**_iPunk: Hmm.. let's see. It's between Lock and Key (too) and The Truth About Forever. _****_Sheli: Whoah. That was an awesome update. I'm sorry for promising I'd be updating, but I hope this will make up for it. It hope it doesn't matter now, LOL. _**

**_whisperasweknowit: It's kinda freaking me out, too. Because I'm so used to writing in a girl's PoV, plus the fact that this is Wes we're talking about. Hahah._**

**_Samantha828: That was totally not intended. I mean, conveying his thoughts really. I just go for it on instinct (yeah, like, without any more contemplations), and poof! There's a chapter!_**

**_So that's it. And please, don't forget the lil green button! Go figure what that is. Ahem._**


	11. Chapter 11

**_A/N: I'm sorry. I really am terribly horribly sorry. Sorry for letting you guys wait for that long. Sorry for saying that I was going to update soon and just falling off the face of Planet Earth. I'm sorry and I know this doesn't make up for it all. Sigh.  
_**

* * *

Chapter 11

I sighed, stopping finally near Kristy's house. It has been a really long run, and I have been really distracted these past few days because of, still, the first time we've played the Truth game. It really shouldn't bother me, you know, the thing about her father's death and how it has affected her. But it did, in more ways I didn't expect.

Anyways, I turned to the left, rounding the aforementioned house. I stopped in Stella's garden and saw a little something drop from the window. I peered up to see who dropped it and saw Macy. So she was here. I wondered immediately if she'd be joining Kristy and Monica in their 'date'– as I've heard from Bert – tonight. But a car already pulled away, and from what I could guess, that was Kristy and Monica, so Macy probably decided to stay behind. Then an idea came to my mind. I wasn't sure how to ask her exactly, but this was generally on impulse.

I was positive she'd come down here to pick her purse up, of course. So I waited. And then, she came into view.

"Macy." I called her name softly at first. She probably didn't hear me. And I called once again. And again. And again.

Then I noticed how preoccupied she was. She kept walking, gazing raptly at the garden. Truth was, I couldn't blame her. I was enthralled by this paradise too, before, just as she was now. She kept walking and for once, she stopped. I followed her even more profound stare and saw she was looking at my sculpture. The one I made for Stella.

"Macy." I tried calling once again. Key word: _tried._

This time, I made sure to whisper a tiny, tiny bit louder than before. "Macy."

And all hell broke loose.

She shrieked. Unlike any one I had ever heard in my life before. And then, as I guessed, the sparrows nesting at the base of the sculpture burst out and flew in an upward spiral, then disappeared into the night. Which elicited another startled shriek from Macy. So, here's what happened. Macy shrieked because she was startled of the sparrows who flew away because they were startled from her first shriek when she was startled by me calling her name. Confusing, albeit amusing.

"Oh," She swallowed hard. "my God."

"Wow." I stuck my hands in my pockets then breathed, definitely amused. "You really screamed."

"You scared the shit out of me!" She exclaimed. "What are you doing out here, lurking around in the dark?"

"I wasn't lurking." I said. "I've been calling your name for five minutes at least, ever since you walked in here."

"You have not." She insisted.

"I really have been." I echoed the tone she used.

"You have not." She said, and I almost sensed that my bickering with her was a lost cause, seeing as how stubborn she was for the time being – or just how stubborn she was, period. :You snuck up and got your big gotcha and now you're just so happy."

Still though, I admittedly loved it when she was mad like this. So I loved angering her more. "No," I said with exaggerated slowness, as if teaching a child to speak. "I was on my way out and I saw you dropping your purse through the window. I called your name. You didn't hear me."

She looked down, her shoulders noticeably slumping, her figure relaxing, from what I could see. A warm breeze blew around us, causing the flowers to dance around in every way, and the curved flowers in the sculpture's hand began spinning.

"You really scared me." She said to me, calmly now, as the wind stopped blowing. I could've sworn a slight flush creep up her cheeks, but it was too dark to really see.

"I didn't mean to." Her embarrassment rolled off on me.

"I know."

She walked back off to the path, and I held aside one sprawled branch to let her step through.

"Let me make it up to you." I said now. And it wasn't a bad idea. I mean, my first idea was only to take her to World of Waffles, but since it would've sounded way too blunt, I needed some sort of excuse. Now here it was, albeit in the form of an apology. At least I had a justification.

"You don't have to." She said as I fell into step behind her.

"I know I don't have to. I want to. And I know just the way." I said with real certainty.

"Yeah?" She asked, turning back and looking at me.

"Come on." I nodded.

* * *

"Okay." She said. "You're forgiven."

I thought so. Because I knew she should love the pencil I gave her. Not that I thought Macy was a shallow person, but I know that she appreciated small things. Hell, even I was fascinated by this favourite-syrup-smelling-pencil of mine. It has been my and my mom's and Bert's tradition that each time we had an argument or just a skirmish, we would give this pencil for an apology. _I just wished I gave her one before she was gone..._

I don't know why, but I let her in our family's tradition. I brought her to the World of Waffles, the place that has been my second home since then.

It was here with these eighteen wheelers, with these sticky tables, in this odd orange building that I sought comfort after my mom's death. I think I had insomnia that time, and it still occurs to me every now and then. I forced myself to sleep, but everytime I close my eyes, it was my mom's pale face inside her casket that I saw. It was always a flashback of the times I was in jail and I knew she was suffering. It was always a flashback of my childhood memories. It was always a flashback of the final goodbye, when she breathed those final five words that held a promise of what I do now.

"_Take care of your brother."_

I know that even if she hadn't said that, I would've still taken care of my brother as much as I do now, but it held even more conviction to me.

My reverie ended when Wendie, the waitress who always served me here in World of Waffles, came to our table, pulling a pen out of her apron. "Hey there, sugar." She said. She was nice, the-shoulder-to-cry-on type of woman that was always there for you. She never asked for more than what information I could give her, and that was nice for me. She knew all about my mom, and her death, but now that I thought about it, Macy probably knew more than Wendie ever did. "The usual?" _(Meaning waffles with cream cheese, maple syrup, and a side of bacon.) _She asked.

"Sure," I said, sliding the menu to the side. "Thanks."

"And you?" She asked Macy, but I could see a curious glint in her eyes. After all, it was the first time I brought someone here, so I'd probably be curious too.

"A waffle and a side of hash browns." She said, and put her menu on top of mine. Then she picked up her pencil and sniffed it.

"Admit it," I said. "you can't believe you've gotten this far in life without one of those."

"What I can't believe," She contradicted. "is that you're known at this place. When did you start coming here?"

"After my mom died. I wasn't sleeping much," _To put it lightly._ "and this is open all night. It was better than just driving around. Now I'm sort of used to it. When I need inspiration , I always come here."

"Inspiration." She said incredulously, looking around.

"Yeah," I said. "When I'm working on a piece, and I'm kind of stuck, I'll come here and sit for a while. Usually by the time I finish my waffle I've figured it out. Or at least started to."

"What about that piece in the garden?" She asked. "Where did that come from?"

"That one's different." I said. "I mean, I made it specifically for someone."

"Stella."

"Yeah." I smiled. It was amazing how Macy can read right through it all. "She made the biggest fuss over it. It was to thank her, because she was really good to Bert and me when my mom was sick. Especially Bert. It was the least I could do."

"It's really something," She said and I shrugged. "All of your pieces have the whirligig thing going on. What's that about?"

"Look at you, getting all meaning driven on me." I teased. "Next you'll be telling me that piece is representative of the complex relationship between agriculture and women."

I barely noticed it but she narrowed her eyes. "I am not my sister. I just wondered, that's all."

I shrugged. Questions about why she became so defensive about me teasing her to be like her sister popped around in my mind, but seeing as it somehow affected her, I decided to let the subject drop. It wasn't my business to meddle with her family issues, after all. "I don't know. The first stuff I did at Myers was just basic, you know, static. But then, once I did the heart-in-hand stuff, I got interested in how things moving made a piece look different, and how that changes the subject. How it makes it seem, you know, alive."

"I can see that." She said, and it felt as though she really did. I almost saw how thoughts of her visit in Stella's garden earlier flashed before her eyes. I never really knew, and would never know, how she felt about that, but what I did know was that she remembered it a little less vaguely, if not almost clearly, now.

"What were you doing out there, anyway?" I asked, suddenly my curiosity was piqued.

"I don't know." She said. "Ever since the day Kristy brought me there, it's sort of fascinated me."

"It's pretty incredible." I said, picking up the glass of water from the table and taking a sip.

"It is." She said, and I couldn't help but notice the glazed over look in her eyes that made me want to hold her gaze, even just for a while. Her fingers ran almost unknowingly down the edge of the table, and it made me want to hold her hand, even just for a second. Suddenly, I felt something inside my chest that made me afraid of wanting to hold her close to me. Great. I came down with the flu, and it was making my head spin, that was for sure. "Plus, it's so different from anything at my house, where everything is just so organized and new. I like the chaos in it."

"When Bert was a kid," I said, not knowing whether this was just to share to her the story or to distract myself from whatever I was currently feeling. I smiled, despite it. "he got lost in that garden, trying to take the shortcut back from the road. We could all hear him screaming like he was stranded in the jungle, but really he was about two feet from the edge of the yard. He just lost his bearings."

"Poor Bert." She said, although amusement was apparent in her voice.

"He survived." I put my glass down. "He's tougher than he seems. When my mom died, we were all most worried about him, since he was only thirteen. They were really close. He was the one who was there when she found out about the cancer. I was off at Myers. But Bert was a real trooper. He stuck by her, even during the bad parts."

"That must have been hard for you. Being away and all."

"I was back home by the time things got really bad. But still, I hated being locked up when they needed me, all because of some stupid thing I'd done. By the time I got out, all I knew was that I never wanted to feel like that again. Whatever else happened, to Bert or anyone, I was going to be there." The guilt, the pain. They all but relived themselves in my heart, right now at this surreal moment, but I was thankful to my lucky stars when Wendie returned with our plates in hand.

"Now, see," I said confidently, nodding at our plates. "this is going to blow your mind."

She looked incredulous. "It's a waffle, not the second coming."

"Don't be so sure. You haven't tasted it yet."

She spread some butter on her waffle before dousing it with syrup and cutting a small piece. I watched as she took her first bite and gauged her reaction really really carefully.

"Knew it." I said, leaning back. "Maybe not the second coming, but a religious experience of sorts."

She seemed to have something on her mind as she smiled. I felt my heart skip a beat, as cliché as that sounds.

"What?" I asked, forcing the hoarseness that suddenly engulfed my throat.

"What you just said, that's so funny." She looked down at her plate. "It reminded me of something my dad always used to say."

I popped a piece of waffle in my mouth, waiting for her to go on, if not distracting myself again.

"We never went to church," She explained. "even though my mother always thought we should, and she was always feeling guilty about it. But my dad loved to cook big breakfasts on Sunday. He said that was his form of worship, and the kitchen was his church, his offering eggs and bacon and biscuits and ..."

"Waffles." I said. I really didn't know her dad that much, or at all. But I felt a great admiration for this person who has been a large part of Macy's life. The way she talked about him, the longing in her eyes, I bet she really really missed him. And I wondered suddenly how things would've been if only he were here. It would've been amazing to meet that one person who has affected her life so much.

"My mom," I suddenly said. "was the one who first brought me here. We used to stop on the way back from Greensboro, where my grandmother lived. Even during the health-food phase, it was a sort of ritual. She'd get the Belgian waffle with whipped cream and strawberries and eat every bit of it. Then she'd complain the entire way home about how sick she felt."

Macy suddenly locked eyes with me. "Isn't it weird the way you remember things when someone's gone?"

"What do you mean?"

"When my dad first died, all I could think about was that day. It's taken me so long to be able to think back to before that, to everything else."

Somehow, somewhere deep inside me, I know this could be the most true I had ever heard in my life about losing her, or losing anyone at all. I was glad to find someone who understood it, if not much better than I did. "It's even worse when someone's sick for a long time." I said. "You forget they were ever healthy, ever okay. It was like there was never a time when you weren't waiting for something awful to happen."

"But there was," she said. "I mean, it's only been in the last few months that I've started remembering all these good stuff, funny stuff about my dad. I can't believe I ever forgot it in the first place."

It was amazing how two persons, at the very same time, could be at the very same page. But somehow this was all true to Macy's and my situation.

"You didn't forget." I took a sip of my water. "You just couldn't remember right then. But now, you're ready to, so you can." And that sounded so true to my own ears.

She finished off her waffle, suddenly seeming so thoughtful. "It was hard, too, I think, because after my dad died, my mom kind of freaked and cleaned out all his stuff. I mean, she threw out just about everything. So in a way it was like he'd never been there at all."

"At my house, it's the total opposite. My mom is, like, everywhere. Delia packed a lot of her stuff into boxes, but she got so emotional she couldn't do it all. One of her coats is still in the hall closet. A pair of her shoes is still in the garage, beside the lawn mower. And I'm always finding her lists. They're everywhere."

"Lists?" She echoed.

"Yeah." I said, remembering. "She was a total control freak. She made lists for everything: what she had to do for the next day, goals for the year, shopping, calls she had to return. Then she'd just stuff them somewhere and forget about them. They'll probably be turning up for years."

"That must be sort of weird," She said. "or you know, good. Maybe."

"It's a little bit of both." I admitted as I tossed my napkin on my now empty plate. "It freaks Bert out, but I kind of like it. I went through this thing when I was sure they meant something, you know? If I found one, I'd sit down with it and try to decipher it. Liking picking up dry cleaning or calling Aunt Sylvia is some sort of message from beyond." I shrugged nonchalantly as I asked myself how these words just spilled right out of me.

"I know." She said. "I did the same thing."

I raised my eyebrow. "Really."

"My dad was, like, addicted to those gadgets they sell on late night TV. He was always ordering them, things like that doormat with the sensor that lets you know when someone's about to – "

"The Welcome Helper,"

"You know it?"

"No." I smiled. "Yes, of course. Everyone's seen that freaking commercial, right?" She didn't really need to know that once when my mom was too busy with something, and she asked me to buy a gift for my uncle and aunt, I seriously considered ordering the doormat. I mean, it was really useful, wasn't it?

"My dad bought all that stuff." She said. "He couldn't help himself. It was like an addiction."

"I've always wanted that coin machine that sorts things automatically." I sighed wistfully.

"Got it." She said, and I could've sworn she smirked a little.

"No way."

She nodded. "Anyway, after he died, the company kept sending them. I mean, every month a new one shows up. But for a while, I was convinced it meant something. Like my dad was somehow getting them to me, like they were supposed to mean something."

"Well," I almost shrugged one shoulder. "you never know. Maybe they do."

She looked at me pointedly. "Do what?"

"Mean something."

And then she was looking away, that glazed over look coming to her eyes again. Then she said softly, "I keep them, just in case. I can't bear to throw them out. You know?"

"Yeah," I really did. "I know." Just as I can't bear to just throw away the memories of my mom.

For another hour, as people came and went, Macy and I just sat there and talked. Talked about everything, just anything at all. I couldn't remember the last time I'd talked so much, really talked. Maybe I never had.

I drove her to Stella's where she was going to sleep in. I wished her good night, and I was surprised by how much I thought about that little last exchange we had while driving home.

* * *

"Why are you still awake?" I half-whispered to Bert as he flicked the remote to change the TV channel.

He shrugged. "Don't feel like sleeping yet."

"Well," I said, ruffling his hair. "Just don't stay real late."

He rolled his eyes, as if to tell me he wasn't a baby anymore. But he was to me. He _was_ my baby brother – was and would always be.

I entered my room and flopped on my bed with a sigh. Suddenly, an idea came to me and I rushed to get something from under my bed. I opened the lid of the box and carefully lifted the first post-it that I saw.

_Prepare big dinner for Thanksgiving. Everyone's coming. Stay calm. _It read.

The next one was a tad bit shorter, although it may have touched something in me. _Meet up with Dr. Philipps._

There were still so many, yet they weren't enough. Yes, her memories were there indeed, but I needed something, just anything at all, to say that I wasn't just seeing this. That she really made this herself. I needed something to make me feel _her thoughts _as she wrote all of this. Then I remembered what Macy said before about her mom keeping away all of her Dad's stuff.

Would it have been better just to keep her out of our minds for quite a while? Would it have been better if I just tucked away all her things? Would it have been better, really? It was right then and there that I found the answer to my question I never knew I was asking. No, it wouldn't have been better. Because then, I wouldn't have remembered her, and remembering her was the closest I could get to being with her. It was the least I could do to keep myself from slipping of this grief's ledge that I stood on.

And then I thought of Macy and how her eyes almost glazed over when she reminisced of certain things about her dad. She loved him, I knew that much, but I never really knew the extent of her longing. I did not pity her, for I knew that feeling was the least she wanted right now, but I wish she could remember more of him. It wasn't her fault that she didn't, but I knew she was still afraid. It was almost as if this grief was anchoring her to these walls she was letting on.

But then I remember how much stories we shared with each other and I couldn't help a smile form on my face. I recalled what happened tonight over and over in my head until I found myself closing my eyes and telling myself it was yet the end of another day.

"Whose turn is it to ask?"

"Yours." I said to Macy.

"Are you sure?" She asked and with that I just nodded as I cranked the engine of the van.

"Go ahead." I said.

Macy and I won the toss, which meant we got to go wash the van while Bert and Kristy were making crab cakes endlessly.

"Okay," She said. "what's your biggest fear?"

Now that I thought about it, I'd never been asked that question in my whole life, as far as I could remember.

"Clowns." I finally said.

"Clowns."

"Yup."

She looked at me with a piercing look.

"What?"

"That is not a real answer." She said decisively.

"Says who?" I really wanted to scoff at her.

"Says me. I meant a real fear, like of failure, of death, of regret. Like that." I wanted to kiss her to shut her up. I wanted to shut her up so bad. "Something that keeps you awake nights, questioning your very existence."

"Clowns."

"Please." She rolled her eyes and I wanted to shake her. No, I wanted to shake her and laugh at her face.

"That's my answer." I slowed down the van, carefully dodging the hole. Macy seemed to still glance at the heart-in-hand. "I don't like clowns. They scare the shit out of me, ever since I went to the circus as a kid and one popped a balloon right in my face."

"Stop it." She said, smiling.

"I wish I could."

"Clowns." She said again. "Really?"

I nodded. "Are you going to accept it as my answer or not?"

"Is it the truth?"

"Yeah, it is."

"Fine," She relented. "Then it's your turn."

Unsurprisingly, Macy knew things about me than no one ever did until now. That I'd gotten my first kiss from a girl in sixth grade named Willa Patrick. That I thought my ears were too big for my head. (Now that's what I call an embarrassing moment between us, admitting that and all.) And that I hated jazz, wasabi, and the smell of patchouli. And of course, clowns. Unsurprisingly, I knew as much about her too. That she never ever learned how to ride a bike in her life. That she thought her eyes were too boring and that she once decided to shave her hair in 7th grade – when she visited that hospital for children who had leukemia – only to back out on the last minute. That she adored the sound of raindrops falling on the roof, the combination of milk and dark chocolate at 2am, and the first aid kit. She loved the smell of medicine.

The game we started seemed to never end, and I was glad. Whenever we shared a moment to ourselves, practically during every task and drive alone, we'd pick up where we'd left off the last time. When everyone else from Wish was around, there was noise and drama and laughter

and chaos. But times like these, it was just me, Macy, and the truth.

"What," I asked her one day as we shopped at Milton's Market for everything Delia had on her list. Which, as it appeared today, _only_ included paper towels. "is the grossest thing that's ever happened to you?"

"Ew. Is this really necessary?" Actually, it wasn't. But her reaction piqued my curiosity and now she had to tell the truth. Or else.

I slid my hands in my pocket. "Answer or pass."

I knew she wouldn't pass. She didn't seem to be the type of person who risks losing – although that is saying much – for a stupid question as this. We were both really competitive that way. One thing, though, that I found about her really interesting form our very first conversation was that I wanted to figure her out. I wanted to know all about that look in her eyes, and I wanted to fathom every little thing she said or did. But now? I found myself elated not from figuring her out totally, but from these little random details about her that never ceased to amaze me.

"Fifth grade," She said, as we turned onto the paper product aisle. "It was December, and this woman came in to talk to us about Hanukkah. I remember she gave us gelt."

"That's the gross part?"

"No, I'm getting to it." She shot me another one of her looks. See that was one thing she brought out in me. I never used to be so impatient but whenever we were playing, I always prodded her to hurry up and answer. At which she responded by padding the story and making it longer than it only is and a roll of her eyes. I became so used to it by now. "Her name was Mrs. Felton, Barbara Felton's mom. Anyway, so we got gelt, we were talking about the menorah. Everything was fine."

I picked up an eight-pack of paper towels off the shelf and handed one to her as we passed the paper towels aisle.

"Then," She said, pausing for dramatic effect. "my teacher, Mrs. Whitehead, comes up to Norma Piskill, who's sitting beside me, and asks if she's okay. And Norma says yes, although looking at her, I notice she's a little green."

"Uh-oh."

"Exactly." She sighed. "So the next thing I know, Norma Piskill is trying to get up, but she doesn't make it. Instead, she pukes all over me. And then, as I'm standing there dripping, she does it again."

"Yuck." And the mental images weren't really nice.

"You asked." She grinned.

"I did." I said as we got in line. "Your turn."

"Right." She put on her 'thinking face' for a second (that's what I call it), as her mouth pulls into a thin line, her eyes cast downward, and she continues to bat her eyelashes. "What do you worry about most?"

"Bert." I said, after a second of pondering.

"Bert." She repeated.

I nodded. "I just feel responsible for him, you know? I mean, it's a big brother thing. But also with my mom gone... She never said so but I know she was counting on me to take care of him. And he's so..."

"So what?" Macy asked as the cashier scanned the paper towels.

I shrugged. "So... Bert. You know? He's intense. Takes everything really seriously, like with all his Armageddon stuff. A lot of people his age, you know, they just don't get him. Everything he feels, he feels strongly. Too strongly, sometimes. I think he freaks people out."

"He's not that bad." She said as I paid for the items. "He's just..."

"Bert." I finished for her.

"Exactly."

And so our little game continued. Question by question, answer by answer. I guess everyone thought it was weird, as I once overheard Kristy asking Macy about how the hell we played this game.

"Nobody tells the truth all the time." I heard Kristy and I pictured her with that pointed look in her face.

"You do in this game," Macy said.

"Maybe _you _do. But how do you know he is?"

"I don't know," She told her. "I just do."

And that was one thing I truly loved about this. She trusted me, if not as much, then more than I trust her. She had no idea how much I longed for this, for just someone to say anything she needs to say instead of being careful around you all the time. I was sick of it, with all people thinking carefully about what they were going to say in case they ever hurt you, and this was the thing that differed with Macy. We only ever told the truth, and it was more than enough.

* * *

_**A/N: Again, this was an uneventful chapter, if not a filler one. But I'm so glad a little of the writer's block seem to fade now and the only reason I ever made this chapter out is because it's winter break and school's been as crazy as hell in the past few months. Hence, my hibernation. But getting serious now, I really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really really sorry for updating way too late. I never thought I would take 5 months just to get this chapter up. So guys, I'm terribly sorry.**_

_**Review replies:**_

_**Tel: Thanks so much for the reviews! I really appreciate it. When I'm having a bad day, I go all the way to the reviews page of this and my day becomes brighter. LOL. So thank you really!**_

_**Guest.: Sigh. Chapter 11's here and here's to hoping you're not hating it or me yet. But thank you for dropping a review!**_

_**bookmuncher00: Thanks! And I love your penname. :)**_

_**Mayra: Thank you very much!**_

_**cassie: God. Thank you so so so much for pointing that out! I'm really really glad you took time to review. I hope I added a little bit of that in this chapter? Well, thanks again!**_

_**jane.: Here's a chapter! (Sadly it's five months late.) But thank you for the review!**_

_**Gabbyclark20: Hi. Thanks for dropping me a message and a review! You don't know how much I appreciate it. Really. Thank you thank you thank you! And for what it's worth, I'm not dead. I'm sorry if I made it seem like that, and I'm really sorry for not updating.  
**_

_**sasha: Yes I am, in fact. Even if it would take me so so so long, I will do everything to finish this. (That sounded cliche, didn't it?) Thanks for the review and I'm glad you like it.**_

_**jj: I'm so so so sorry about not updating. For 5 whole months. Really I am.**_

_**Ang922: I see you're kinda new to the story? Correct me if I'm wrong, but welcome aboard. I'm so glad you like it so far and thanks a lot for dropping a review.**_

_**gumbygladys: Aw, thanks for that really really sweet review. I take it you're not mad that I don't update? Please don't be mad. I'm sorry, really, for not getting a chapter up. And I love you too!**_

_To all: I am sorry for all. If it helps, I beat myself so much about it. Forgive me?  
_


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